24 


■ 


FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 


REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 


BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


If'l 


Di-dsM 
Section 


POEMS 

ON  DIFFERENT  OCCASIONS 

I 

BY  CHARLOTTE  RICHARDSON. 


POEMS    y10TWmiic^ 


WRITTEN* 


ON  DIFFERENT   OCC 


CHARLOTTE    RICHARDSON. 


TO  WHICH  IS  PREFIXED 


SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  AUTHOR, 


TOGETHER 


WITH  THE  REASONS  WHICH  HAVE  LED  TO  THEIH  PUBLICATION 


BT  CATHARINE  CAPPE. 


PHILADELPHIA  ■ 
PRINTED  AND  SOLD  BY  KIMBER,  CONRAD,  Sc  CO 

NO.  93,  MARKET  STREET, 
AND  NO.    170,    SOUTH    SECOND    STKEET. 


1806. 


PREFACE. 


IF  the  sole  object  of  the  Editor  had  been 
to  relieve  pecuniary  distress,  by  bringing  for- 
ward one  instance  more,  in  addition  to  ma- 
ny others,  of  considerable  talents,  developed 
under  circumstances  the  most  unfavourable, 
many  of  the  pieces  which  now  form  a  part 
of  the  present  selection,  would  not  have  been 
obtruded  on  the  public.  But  she  had  a  fur- 
ther, and  as  it  appears  to  herself,  a  more 
important  object  in  view.... she  has  wished, 
by  examples  drawn  from  real  life,  more 
powerfully  to  impress  the  mind  of  the  Reader 
with  the  great  efficacy  of  religious  principle  ; 
to   exhibit   its    importance   in    calling    forth 


VI  PREFAC 

latent  energies,  in  preserving  the  human  cha- 
racter from  the  contagion  of  vice,  that  most 
fatal  of  all  contagions,  and  to  demonstrate, 
that  there  is  no  affliction  so  severe,  as  totally 
to  preclude  the  admission  of  its  salutary  and 
consoling  influence ;  no  situation  so  mean 
and  abject,  not  even  that  of  a  common  poor- 
house,  as  wholly  to  deprive  its  favoured  pos- 
sessor of  true  and  genuine  respectability  of 
character. 

A  specimen  of  the  following  poems,  to- 
gether with  an  outline  of  the  writer's  history, 
was  sent  by  the  Editor  to  several  of  the  peri- 
odical publications  in  September  last ;  but 
as  it  may  happen  that  some  of  the  generous 
Subscribers  to  this  little  work,  may  not  have 
seen  this  account ;  as  some  knowledge  of  the 
disadvantages  under  which  the  Author  has 
laboured,  may  be  necessary  as  an  apology  for 
inaccuracies  to  be  met  with  in  her  composi- 
tions ;  and  as  this  information  is  essential  to 


PREFACE.  Vll 

the  demonstration  already  adverted  to,  it  will 
not  be  deemed  altogether  unnecessary  to  tra- 
vel once  more  over  the  same  ground. 

Charlotte  Smith  was  born  in  the  year 
1775,  under  circumstances  the  most  unfa- 
vourable ;  and  it  is  probable,  that  whatever 
in  her  character  or  subsequent  conduct  may 
have  been  deserving  of  praise,  has  owed  its 
origin  to  religious  impressions,  early  made 
upon  her  mind  by  the  pious  conductors  of  a 
Sunday-school.  By  these  she  was  soon  dis- 
tinguished for  her  uncommon  quickness,  do- 
cility, and  great  desire  of  information  ;  and 
on  this  account,  at  their  entreaty,  was  ad- 
mitted when  she  was  twelve  years  old,  into 
the  Grey-coat  School  in  this  city,  a  vacancy 
happening  at  that  time  out  of  due  course. 
Here  she  had  little  opportunity  of  mental 
progress ;  the  girls  educated  in  that  school, 
being  intended  for  working  servants,  are 
kept  very  close  to  those  occupations  which 


Vlll  PREFACE, 


may  best  prepare  them  for  their  future  desti- 
nation. They  are  indeed  taught  to  read  and 
write,  but  it  is  only  a  very  small  portion  of 
their  time  that  is  allotted  to  this  purpose.... 
The  Sunday  is  their  only  day  of  rest  from 
manual  labour,  and  this  was  seized  upon  with 
avidity,  by  the  energetic  mind  of  the  poor 
girl  we  are  describing.  At  church  she  was 
so  attentive  an  hearer,  that  she  brought  a- 
way  in  her  memory,  whether  from  the  Scrip- 
tures she  heard  read  there,  or  the  Sermon 
afterwards  preached,  many  a  serious  admoni- 
tion or  moral  document,  which  were  faithfully 
treasured  up  for  future  use. 

In  her  sixteenth  year,  she  left  the  School 
and  went  to  service,  and  in  a  very  few 
months  afterwards  lost  her  mother,  whose 
death  she  very  feelingly  laments  in  the  first 
piece  of  the  following  selection,  her  earliest 
attempt  at  any  thing  like    regular  composi- 


PREFACi:.  IX 

tion.*  She  was  not  fortunate  in  her  first 
services,  neither  in  the  characters  of  the  mas- 
ters and  mistresses,  nor  of  the  associates  a- 
mong  whom  she  was  thrown.... and  under 
these  perplexities,  what  had  formerly  in  the 
Grey-coat  School  been  a  matter  of  taste  and 
of  mental  gratification,  became  afterwards  the 
means  of  her  safety,  and  the  source  of  her 
highest  consolation. 

Among  the  many  hardships  to  which  she 
was  now  subjected,  one  of  the  most  distress- 
ing was,  the  not  having  time  allowed  on  the 
Sunday  to  attend  public  worship.  Jn  one 
service,  where  she  remained  a  year,  she  was 
never  at  church  the  whole  time ;  and  in  an- 


*  It  is  very  remarkable,  that  at  this  time  she  had  never  read 
any  poetry  (if  such  indeed  it  can  be  called)  except  the  common 
version  of  the  psalms  by  Sternhold  and  Hopkins.  Sucli  being- 
the  sole  prototype,  surely  the  comparative  excellence  of  the  copy 
produced,  is  very  astonishing. 


PREFACE. 


other  which  succeeded  it,  only  once  during  a 
like  period.*  Under  this  privation,  the  lit- 
tle storehouse  of  a  faithful  memory  became 
peculiarly  important ;  here  wefre  treasured 
up,  pieces  of  sermons,  a  few  scraps  of  poetry, 
and  proverbs  of  wisdom  for  the  conduct  of 
life ;  and  to  these  she  made  additions,  when- 
ever she  had  opportunity,  by  reading  her 
Bible,  the  Whole  Duty  of  Man,  the  interest- 
ing allegory  of  Pilgrim's  Progress,  and 
Gastrell's  Christian  Institutes,  formerly  given 
her  as  a  reward,   by   the  conductors  of  the 


*  The  Editor  cannot  pass  over  these  facts,  without  animad- 
verting on  the  great  reprehensibility  of  this  and  of  similar  con- 
duct in  the  masters  and  mistresses  of  families... .the  folly  of  it  as 
it  respects  themselves,  and  the  extreme  criminality  as  it  respects 
the  welfare  of  those  committed  to  their  care.  With  what  face 
can  they  expect  that  their  servants  should  be  sober  and  vigilant, 
faithful  and  obedient,  if  they  keep  them  ignorant,  as  far  as  it  is  in 
their  power  so  to  do,  that  they  are  moral  agents  and  accounta- 
b\e  creatures  ? 


PREFACE.  XI 


Sunday-school.  To  this  storehouse,  and  to 
these  books,  she  retired  for  comfort,  as  to 
so  many  faithful  friends,  when  the  labours  of 
the  day  were  finished;  and  hence  probably 
acquired  that  constant  habit  of  looking  be- 
yond the  present  scene,  to  a  future  and  better 
state  of  things,  which  is  the  prominent  idea 
in  almost  all  her  little  compositions. 

In  the  year  1796,  she  was  preferred  to  the 
station  of  Cook-maid  in  the  respectable  fa- 
mily of  a  widow  lady,  where  her  condition 
was  in  many  respects  greatly  improved.... she 
had  somewhat  more  leisure  for  mental  cultiva- 
tion, had  access  occasionally  on  the  Sunday,  to 
a  small  selection  of  books,  and  took  her  turn 
regularly  of  attending  public  worship  with  her 
fellow  female  servant.  During  this  period,  her 
only  brother,  becoming  a  cripple  by  a  blow  he 
had  received  during  infancy,  after  a  long  series 
of  cruel  usage  from  an  unfeeling  mistress,  the 
wife  of  the  shoemaker  to  whom  he  had  been 


Xll  PREFACE. 

bound  apprentice,  was  taken  to  the  poor- 
house  in  this  city.  Here,  without  a  relative 
or  friend,  save  his  afflicted  sister,  he  look- 
ed forward  with  tranquillity  and  composure 
to  that  event,  which  would  speedily  termi- 
nate a  short  life,  marked  through  its  whole 
progress  with  sorrow  and  suffering*  His 
patience  and  resignation  were  so  exempla- 
ry, that  the  master  and  mistress  of  this 
motley  mansion,  loved  him  as  their  son  ; 
he  was  attended,  whenever  she  could  ob- 
tain leave  of  absence,  by  his  sorrowing  sis- 
ter, who  procured  for  him  from  time  to 
time  every  little  comfort  she  could  afford, 
and  which  the  circumstances  of  his  situation 
could  not  otherwise  supply ;  till  at  length 
his  dying  bed  supplied  a  scene,  not  merely 
of  patient  resignation,  but  of  humble  con- 
fidence and  joyful  hope,  from  which  the 
favoured  sons  of  rank  and  opulence  might 
derive  many  a  serious  and  important  lesson. 
Her  affection  for  this   beloved    brother    did 


PREFACE.  Xlll 

not  terminate  here.... she  borrowed  two 
guineas  of  her  mistress  which  were  afterwards 
faithfully  repaid,  to  procure  for  him  a  de- 
cent funeral.*     Not  long    after  this   event, 


*  I  am  aware  that  this  effort  will,  by  some  readers,  be  attributed 
to  reprehensible  pride,  rather  than  to  laudable  feeling  ;  but  I 
think  we  should  separate  between  the  natural  effects  of  that  affec- 
tion, which  must  attach  even  to  the  remains  of  an  object  tenderly 
beloved,  and  which  seeks  to  console  itself  by  paying  every  out- 
ward mark  of  respect  in  its  power,  and  that  foolish  desire  of  an 
expensive  funeral,  so  unimportant  to  the  dead,  and,  in  many  in- 
stances, so  very  ruinous  to  the  living.  Even  here,  however,  it 
would  surely  be  the  part  of  wisdom  rather  to  regulate,  than  to 
aim  at  extirpating  the  principle  on  which  it  proceeds  ;  namely, 
that  of  being  respectable  in  the  eyes  of  others.  I  am  told  by  an 
ingenious  friend,  who  made  a  tour  in  the  north  of  Scotland,  last 
summer,  that  it  is  not  uncommon  when  a  young  couple  marry  in 
the  Highlands,  and  retire  to  their  straw-thatched  cabin,  with 
scarcely  a  chair  to  sit  upon,  that  the  first  occupation  of  the  bride, 
is  to  spin....notfor  their  future  more  decent  apparel....not  for  wages 
to  purchase  a  few  necessaries,  but,  for  a  winding  sheetl  Here,  it 
is  not  the  principle,  but  the  application  of  it  that  is  absurd  and 
ridiculous. ...a  decent  funeral  is  their  point  of  honour.... accustomed 

B 


Xiv  PREFACE. 

Charlotte  Smith  left  that  family,  and  went 
to  live  with  a  second  widow  lady,  where, 
having  money  frequently  given  her  to  attend 
the  theatre,  she  saved  it  from  time  to  time 
and  increased  her  small  library,  by  the  pur- 
chase of  Gray's  Poems,  Goldsmith's  Poems, 
and  the  Death  of  Abel.  Here  she  had  a 
considerable  increase  of  wages.... but  she  had 
likewise,  from  the  peculiar  circumstances 
of  the  family,  a  great  increase  of  difficulties 
and  anxiety,  under  some  of  which,  many  of 
the  devotional  pieces  which  form  a  part  of 
this  little  volume,  were  composed. 

In  the  month  of  October,  1802,  she  marri- 
ed a  shoemaker  of  the  name  of  Richardson; 
and  as  they  had  long  been  mutually  attached 


from  infancy  to  extreme  poverty,  no  stigma  attaches  to  the  ap- 
pearance ;  but  not  to  be  buried  according  to  ancient  use  and  cus- 
tom, and  in  the  maimer  of  their  ancestors,  would  be  a  reproach 
which  nothing  could  overcome 


PREFACE. 

to  each  other,  and  he  had  some  property  of 
his  own,  which  enabled  them  to  open  a  little 
shop,  she  appears  to  have  attained  to  the 
very  summit  of  her  wishes.  But  this  state 
of  unhoped-for  prosperity,  proved  nothing 
more  than  a  transient  gleam.... not  long  af- 
ter their  marriage,  she  was  attacked  by  an 
illness  which  for  some  weeks  threatened  her 
life,  and  scarcely  was  she  recovered,  when 
her  husband  showed  alarming  symptoms  of 
a  pulmonary  consumption.  As  is  usual  in 
that  disorder,  hope  and  fear  for  many  months 
were  alternately  the  attendants  on  the  sick 
couch,  till  at  length  all  expectation  of 
recovery  vanished  ;  the  patient  took  his  bed, 
and  under  these  trying  circumstances,  the 
afflicted  wife  became  a  mother.  When 
the  infant  was  two  months  old  he  lost  his 
father.  The  Editor  of  these  papers  saw 
the  patient  sufferer  near  the  approach  of 
his  last  moments,  his  wife  hanging  over  him, 
wiping  the  dew  from  his  exhausted  frame, 


XVI  PREFACE. 

with  a  look  of  unspeakable  anguish  ;  and  a 
pious  clergyman  who  frequently  visited  them 
when  under  these  very  trying  circumstances, 
bears  ample  testimony  to  the  fortitude,  hum- 
ble resignation,  and  exemplary  conduct  of 
both.  *  For  some  months  the  infant  appear- 
ed healthy,  and  was  remarkably  lively  and  in- 
telligent for  his  age ;  but  at  length,  he  too 
became  the  victim  of  disease,  and  it  was, 
when  she  was  labouring  under  the  almost 
overwhelming  pressure  of  this  accumulated 
sorrow,  that  the  Editor  first  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  poetical  talents  of  the 
Author. 

By  what  is  usually  called  an  accident,  but 
in  stricter  language,  by  the  occurrence  of  one 
of  those  circumstances,  which  however  trivi- 
al they  may  appear  at  the  time,  will  after- 


*  The  Rev.  J.  Graham 


PREFACE.  XVI 

wards  be  found  by  a  careful  observer,  to  be 
a  sort  of  master  key  fitted  to  unlock  the  fu- 
ture current  of  events  ;  the  little  piece,  enti- 
tled, "He  Sleeps,"  was  put  into  my  hands. 
Struck  with  the  piety  of  the  sentiments,  af- 
fected by  the  pathos  with  which  they  are  ex- 
pressed, and  utterly  astonished  at  the  neat- 
ness, not  to  say  elegance  of  the  composition, 
it  excited  in  my  mind  a  new  interest  for  the 
writer :    I  made   further  inquiry,  and  found, 
to  my  no  small  surprise,  that  she  had  long 
been  in  the  habit  of  putting  down  in  measure 
the  genuine  effusions  of  a  very  feeling  heart ; 
and  she  afterwards  brought  me  a  whole  book 
of  manuscript  poems,  from  which  the  follow- 
ing selection  is  taken.     Determining  to  make 
the    attempt  of  publishing   by   subscription 
for  her  benefit,  an  outline    of  her   history, 
together  with  a  specimen  of  her  poetry,  was 
sent  to  the  Gentlemen's,  European,  Month- 
ly, and  Lady's  Magazines,  and  to  Mrs.  Trim- 
mer's Guardian  of  Education,  together  with 
C  2 


XVlil  PREFACE. 

proposals  for  printing,  &c.  Messrs.  Johnson, 
Hatchard,  andMawman,  having  had  the  kind- 
ness to  allow  their  names  to  be  mentioned  as 
receiving  subscriptions  in  London.  The  very 
respectable  list  of  Subscribers*  annexed,  will 
fully  evince  the  success  of  the  proposals,  and 
will  at  the  same  time  give  the  truest  pleasure 
to  the  benevolent  mind  ;  to  that  heart  of  sen- 
sibility which,  too  frequently  distressed  by 
the  exhibition  of  vice  and  folly,  delights  to 
repose  itself,  like  the  weary  traveller,  upon 
the  Oasis  in  the  desert,  on  those  brighter 
spots  in  the  human  character  which  so  strik- 
ingly display  its  divine  original ! 

The  Reader  will  rejoice  to  be  informed, 
that  the  infant  for  whose  safety  he  will  have 
sympathized  in  the  feelings  of  the  afflicted 
mother,  is  now  nearly  quite  recovered,  and 
that  by  the  aid  of  the  subscriptions,  towards 


*  The  English  edition  contains  a  large  list  of  Subscribers. 


PREFACE.  XIX 

which  he  himself  has  generously  contributed, 
she  will  hereafter  be  established  in  a  school 
for  their  joint  support.... He  will  also  be 
struck  and  affected  by  the  calm  composure 
with  which  an  Orphan  Youth  in  a  poorhouse 
could  meet  death  ;....an  unequivocal  proof 
of  that  true  elevation  of  character  which 
Christian  hopes,  and  Christian  promises, 
engrafted  on  Christian  virtues,  is  competent 
to  inspire  !  Who  would  not  labour  to  form 
such  a  character  in  themselves,  who  would 
not  earnestly  desire  that  it  should  be  formed 
in  others  ? 

What  would  have  been  the  consolation  to 
Charlotte  and  her  suffering  brother.... to 
Charlotte  and  her  dying  husband,  had  they 
been  informed  by  some  of  our  profound  phi- 
losophers, that  the  concourse  of  atoms  which 
by  chance  had  been  united,  by  chance  had 
been  vivified.... were  now  by  chance,  about 
to  be  dissolved.... the  vivifying  principle,  by 


XX  PREFACE. 

chance,  about  to  be  annihilated  ?  What 
would  have  been  their  sensations,  if  in  the 
moment  of  separation  they  had  been  inform- 
ed, that  they  were  now  to  be  separated  for 
ever  ?.... Would  they  not  have  exclaimed  in 
the  bitterness  of  their  souls,  with  the 
©astern  Sage  of  antiquity.... Depart  from  us 
we  beseech  you,  "  miserable  comforters  are 
ye  all!" 

I  have  endeavoured  to  select  from  the 
manuscripts  of  the  Author,  those  pieces 
principally  which  are  connected  with  her 
own  peculiar  circumstances.  The  analysis 
of  a  sermon  or  of  a  lecture  turned  into  verse, 
(of  which  there  are  several)  whatever  powers 
of  mind  they  may  display  in  the  simple  ar- 
tificer, would  create  little  interest  in  that 
of  the  Reader. 

It  has  been  no  consideration  with  me  that 
the    creed   of   Charlotte   Richardson  diifers, 


PREFACE.  XXI 

in  some  points  materially,  from  my  creed.* 
Having  been  precluded  by  her  situation 
from  the  possibility  of  examining  the  doc- 
trines of  Scriptures  for  herself,  she  believes 
that  system  of  Christianity  which  she  has 
been  taught,  and  how  should  she  do  other- 
wise ?  What !  although  in  some  of  her  spec- 
ulative opinions  I  may  deem  her  mistaken, 
may  I  not  therefore  honour,  as  it  deserves, 
her  piety  towards  God;  her  resignation  to 
his  will ;  her  firm  dependance  upon  the  pro- 
mises of  his  gospel ;  her  integrity  in  profess- 
ing what  she  believes  to  be  true  ;  and  her  en- 
tire conviction  of  the  extreme  importance  of 


*  Let  it  not  hence  be  imagined  the  Editor  means  to  affirm,  that 
she  considers  error  in  matters  of  opinion  as  of  no  importance ; 
she  believes  on  the  contrary  that,  «  What  a  sound  eye  is  to  the 
n  body,  such,  and  more,  is  a  well-informed  judgment  to  the 
t(  man.... a  faithful  guide,  a  watchful  guardian,  the  source  of  re- 
*  fined  and  various  pleasures."  See  an  excellent  Sermon  on  the 
value  of  truth  and  danger  of  error,  by  the  late  Rev.  J.  Kenrick, 
of  Exeter. 


XX11  PREFACE. 


a  virtuous  and  holy  life  exemplified  in 
the  practice  of  every  personal  and  social 
duty  ?  In  these  principles  she  is  not  mistaken, 
and  they  are  of  the  very  essence  of  the  gos- 
pel....These  principles,  if  acted  upon  as  well 
as  believed,  are  in  my  mind  fully  competent 
to  conduct  "  the  way- faring  pilgrim  to  the 
promised  land."  I  consider  them  as  the  only 
real  discriminating  characteristics  of  the  true 
and  genuine  disciples  of  one  and  the  same 
heavenly  Master,  and  as  the  only  indispensa- 
ble qualifications  of  those  whom  he  will  here, 
after  acknowledge  as  his  own  ;  and  who  with 
him,  will  eventually  take  possession  of  that 
glorious  kingdom,  prepared  for  them  before 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  in  whatever 
church,  or  sect,  or  party,  they  may  happen 

to  be  found. 

CATHARINE  CAPPE. 

York,  Jan.  10,  1806. 


POEMS. 


ELEGY 


THE  DEATH  OF  A  TENDER  INDULGENT  MOTHER, 

WHO    QUITTED    A    WORLD    OF   SIN    AND     SORROW,    ON    FRIDAY, 
NOVEMBER,  5,  1790.       AGED   FORTY. 

THE  night  was  still,  the  sky  serene, 

The  warblers  ceased  to  play  ; 
When  slowly  o'er  the  churchyard  green, 

Sad  Lucy  took  her  way. 

4  Ah  !  hapless  maid,  she  wept  and  cried, 

1  Of  friends  thou  art  bereft ; 
4  Soon  as  thy  tender  parent  died, 

'  An  Orphan  thou  wert  left.' 


24 


*  With  sighs  I  still  recall  the  scene, 

i  When  she  was  torn  away ; 

*  My  heart  was  fill'd  with  anguish  keen, 

4  With  sorrow  and  dismay.' 

"  Adieu,"  she  cried,  "  my  children  dear, 

"  May  Heaven  prosper  you ! 
"  Should  fortune  prove  to  you  severe, 

"  Still,  let  your  ways  be  true. 

u  In  God  place  all  your  confidence, 
"  And  make  his  word  your  guide  j 

"  He  will  protect  your  innocence, 
41  And  for  your  wants  provide. 

"  Then  when  in  heaven  next  we  meet, 

"  Free  from  all  care  and  pain ; 

•  »^ .  -■ 

"  My  happiness  will  be  complete.... 

*  *£> 
"  We  ne'er  shall  part  again  !" 


25 


*  No  more  she  said ;  for  icy  Death 

4  His  hand  upon  her  laid  ; 

*  With  smiles  she  then  resign'd  her  breath, 

'  The  debt  of  Nature  paid.' 

4  For  ever  will  my  streaming  eyes, 
<  With  ceaseless  tears  o'erflow  ; 

*  All  worldly  pleasure  I  despise, 

*  My  heart  is  fill'd  with  woe.' 


In  plaintive  tone  the  artless  maid 
Thus  did  her  loss  bemoan, 

As  pensive,  through  the  lonely  shade, 
She  bent  her  footsteps  home. 


■I 


26 


THE  ORPHAN'S  PRAYER, 

WHEN  DISTRESSED  BY  GREAT  UNKINDNESS, 
IN    THE    YEAR    1792. 

WHAT,  tho'  worldly  friends  may  frown, 

Why  should  I  dejected  be? 
Father,  let  thy  love  be  known, 

Let  me  find  my  all  in  thee ! 
Never  let  my  soul  despair, 
God  will  hear  the  Orphan's  prayer. 

The  child  of  Sorrow  long  I've  been, 
And  often  for  unkindness  mourn'd, 

A  friendless  Orphan,  poor  and  mean, 
And  by  the  proud  and  wealthy  scorn'd  : 

Oft  did  their  scorn  my  bosom  tear, 

Yet  God  still  heard  the  Orphan's  prayer. 


27 

Earthly  comforts  fade  and  die, 
Sorrows  oft  our  j  oys  attend, 

But,  whilst  we  on  God  rely, 
He  will  prove  a  faithful  friend  ; 

On  him  I'll  cast  my  every  care, 

For  he  regards  the  Orphan's  prayer. 

Wean  me,  Lord,  from  earthly  love, 
Let  my  thoughts  ascend  on  high  : 

Where  my  Saviour  sits  above, 
Thither  may  my  wishes  fly. 

In  all  my  wants  may  I  repair 

To  him  that  hears  the  Orphan's  prayer. 

And  when  my  spirit  quits  her  clay, 
And  enters  on  a  world  unknown, 

In  yon  bright  realms  of  endless  day, 
Jesus  thy  trembling  servant  own  : 

When  thou  in  glory  shalt  appear, 

Remember  then  the  Orphan's  prayer. 


28 
EPITAPH 

QN  ELIZABETH  HUBY,  AGED  SIXTEEN,  1792. 

STAY,  traveller,  and  hither  turn  thine  eye, 
Here  youth,  and  innocence,  and  beauty  lie  : 
Short  was  her  passage  through  this  vale  of  woe, 
In  youth's  gay  prime,  Death  gave  the  fatal  blow. 
Resign' d  she  died,  in  hopes  ere  long  to  raise 
Her  voice,  to  sing  her  great  Redeemer's  praise. 


2\> 


PRAYER 

FOR  SAFETY  AND  PROTECTION. 

MY  God,  to  thee  my  voice  I  raise  ; 

Thy  ever  watchful  eye 
Can  lead  me  thro'  life's  dangerous  ways,* 

And  every  want  supply. 

Teach  me  thy  precepts  to  observe, 

By  them  to  guide  my  way ; 
O  may  I  never  from  them  swerve, 

But  thy  commands  obey ! 


*  The  Author  was  at  this  time  in  her  nineteenth  year,  and  was 
thrown  amongst  associates  whose  example  and  conversation  were 
"m  every  respect  low,  corrupt,  and  ruinous editor. 

C2 


30 

A  portion  of  thy  grace  impart,. 
Which  all  may  freely  share  ; 

O  write  thy  laws  within  my  heart, 
And  plant  thy  statutes  there  ! 

If  evil  tempt,  or  sin  assail, 

And  I  no  comfort  see  ; 
Thy  grace,  still  mighty  to  prevail^ 

Will  set  the  captive  free. 

For  thou  hast  sworn  not  to  forsake 
Those  who  on  thee  depend ; 

Them  for  thine  own  thou  lov'st  to  take, 
And  save  them  to  the  end. 

Preserv'd  by  thee  from  every  snare 

I  may  securely  rest ; 
Defended  by  thy  guardian  care, 

In  thy  assistance  blest. 


31 


ELEGY 

ON 

THE  DEATH  OF  AN  ONLY  AND  BELOVED  BROTHER, 

WHO   DEPARTED    THIS  LIFE,  JAN.  3,  1799,  AGED  22. 

WHAT  piercing  sorrow  penetrates  the  heart, 
When  Death,  relentless,  tears  our  joys  away  ! 

When  the  barb'd  arrow  strikes  the  vital  part, 
What  poignant  griefs  the  tortur'd  bosom    sway 

Yet  I,  alas  !  this  anguish  keen  have  prov'd, 

Which  blighted  all  my  joys  and  laid  them  low  j 

Sever'd,  by  death,  from  him  I  truly  lov'd, 

My  brother  !  still  for  thee  my  tears  shall  flow. 

Still,  still  for  thee,  those  fond  regrets  shall  rise, 
And  still  for  thee,  shall  flow  th'  unbidden  tear, 

While  oft  remembrance,  to  my  mental  eyes 
Shall  bring  the  form  of  him  I  lov'd  so  dear  ! 


32 


Sweet  suff'ring  saint, 'thy  virtues  well  I  knew  ; 

Mild  as  the  summer  breeze  that  waves  a  long, 
Candid,  and  just,  in  all  thy  dealings  true, 

Cautious,  and  fearful  still  of  doing  wrong ! 

Religion  held  her  empire  o'er  thy  mind, 
With  holy  Hope  and  Charity  divine, 

She  bade  thee,  in  affliction  be  resign'd, 
Nor  at  thy  earthly  trials,  ere  repine. 

She  taught  thee  how  to  bear  Affliction's  rod, 
The  bitter  pains  of  sickness  to  sustain  ; 

She  bade  thee  bow  submissive  to  thy  God, 
Nor  at  thy  "Maker's  will  dare  to  complain. 

No  guilty  thought  e'er  stain'd  thy  spotless  mind, 
Thy  blameless  life  from  every  vice  was  free  ; 

Content  and  patient,  pitying  and  kind, 
Each  sacred  virtqjfcfwas  combin'd  in  thee  ! 


Though  pale  disease  oppress'd  thy  feeble  frame, 
And  many  a  pang  thy  tortur'd  form  endur'd  ; 

Yet  still  thy  heart  maintain'd  its  holy  flame, 
Still  in  thy  Saviour's  love,  thou  wert  assur'd. 

Early  deprived  of  fond  maternal  care 
To  soothe  thy  sorrow  and  assuage  thy  pain,, 

Yet  thy  lov'd  sister  in  thy  griefs  could  share, 
And  her  affection,  calm'd  thy  heart  again. 

O,  best  of  brothers,  from  the  blest  abode 
Still  view  thy  sister  with  an  angel's  love  [ 

Direct  and  guide  her  in  the  ways  of  God, 
That  she  may  meet  thee  in  the  realms  above  ! 

In  that  dread  hour,  when  earthly  joys  shall  fade, 
When  I,  th'  appointed  course  of  life  have  trod, 

Guide  me,  blest  spirit !  through  Death's  awful  shade, 
Then  waft  my  soul  to  heaven,  to  meet  my  God  ! 


34 


ON 


MY  RECOVERY  FROM  SUDDEN  ILLNESS, 


nov.  18,  1800. 


"  PRAISE  THE  LORD  O  MY  90UL  1....WH0  REDEEMETH  THY  LIFE 
u  FROM  DESTRUCTION,  AND  WHO  CROWNETH  THEE  WITH 
"LOVING  KINDNESS  AND  TENDER  MERCY."   PSAL.  CIII.  1,  4. 


ETERNAL  ruler  of  the  sky, 
Who  dost  our  various  wants  supply, 

In  whom  we  li^e  and  move  j 
O  hear  thy  humble  suppliant's  prayer, 
And  deign  to  make  me  still  thy  care, 

And  perfect  me  in  love  ! 


35 


When  low  my  drooping  head  reclin'd, 
When  doubts  and  fears  perplex'd  my  mind, 

I  then  thy  aid  implor'd : 
Thou  heardst  O  God,  my  feeble  pray'r 
Reliev'd  my  mind  of  all  its  care, 

And  soon  my  health  restored ! 

O  while  I  shall  my  life  enjoy, 
Grant  that  I  may  that  life  employ, 

In  works  of  righteousness  : 
Give  me  my  sinful  state  to  see, 
And  draw  me  nearer  still  to  thee, 
And  fill  my  soul  with  peace  ! 

Then  when  this  mortal  life  is  past, 
And  Death,  with  friendly  hand,  at  last 

Shall  close  my  weary  eyes, 
May  guardian  angels  round  me  stand, 
And  bear  my  soul,  at  thy  command, 

To  yonder  blissful  skies  ! 


36 
ADDRESS  TO  RELIGION. 

COME,  blest  Religion,  with  thy  aid  divine, 
O  come  and  heal  this  sick'ning  heart  of  mine  ! 
Chase  every  earthly  passion  from  my  breast, 
And  let  my  drooping  soul  in  thee  find  rest: 
O  come,  and  in  my  breast  erect  thy  throne, 
There  reign  without  a  rival.. ..reign  alone  ! 
Teach  me  to  view  the  world  and  all  its  joys 
As  empty  shadows  and  delusive  toys  ; 
Let  not  its  fleeting  pleasures  charm  my  soul, 

But  may  thy  pow'r  my  inward  foes  controul 

If  trials  wait  me,  or  if  ills  betide, 

Safe  thro'  each  snare  my  trembling  footsteps  guide 

Or,  if  prosperity  should  chance  to  smile, 

O  guard  my  heart  from  each  enchanting  wile  ; 

Give  me  that  peace,  the  world  can  never  give, 

And  let  me  thy  devoted  servant  live: 

Let  every  virtue  in  my  conduct  shine, 
That  all  may  own  thy  influence  is  divine  ! 


lieve, 
receive.      J 


37 


Let  soft  compassion  plead  within  my  breast 

For  all  my  brethren  needy,  or  distress'd  : 

Though  little  be  my  store,  yet  let  me  give 

i 

My  humble  mite  their  mis'ry  to  relieve, 

For  'tis  more  blest  to  give,  than  to  receive. 

Let  not  that  hour  be  banish'd  from  my  mind, 

When  this  frail  clay  shall  be  to  dust  eonsign'd ; 

But  let  my  soul  on  Faith's  strong  pinions  rise, 

And  view  with  joy,  her  mansions  in  the  skies  : 

So  when  the  closing  scene  of  life  draws  nigh, 

The  solemn  warning  comes...."  Prepare  to  die," 

May  no  vain  fear  my  trembling  soul  invade, 

To  throw  a  deeper  gloom  o'er   Death's  dark  shade  ! 

Ah  !  let  my  blest  Redeemer  then  be  near, 

Kindly  to  chase  away  each  rising  fear  j 

Strength  to  o'ercome  may  He  to  me  impart, 

And  with  his  love  revive  my  sinking  heart  ; 

Support  me  thro'  the  solemn  trying  hour, 

And  in  my  weakness,  manifest  his  pow'r ! 
V    D 


38 


ON  THE  CONSOLATION  TO  BE  DERIV 
ED  FROM  RELIGION. 

Written  in  an  hour  of  great  anxiety  and  distress.* 

WHEN  sorrow  sinks  my  spirits  down, 
And  grief  o'erwhelms  my  troubled  mind, 

Faith  cries,  '  Look  up  to  God  alone, 
'  A  refuge  thou  in  him  shalt  find.' 

My  soul  obeys  the  sacred  word, 

And  casts  her  care  upon  the  Lord. 

What  though  Affliction's  shades  surround 
My  path  ;  yet  God  is  wise  and  just, 

And  oft  my  fainting  soul  has  found 
The  promise  true  on  which  I  trust ; 

Shall  I  then  doubt  his  sacred  word  ? 

No.. .let  me  humbly  trust  the  Lord. 


*  The  Writer  was  at  this  time  unkindly  treated  by  her  Mistress, 
and  not  having  any  home,  or  a  relation  in  the  world  to  assist  her, 
found  her  spirits  unusually  depressed editor, 


39 


'Tis  in  the  hour  of  deep  distress 
That  we  religion's  comforts  prove  ; 

The  chast'ning  hand  we  feel  and  bless 
Of  God,  that  scourges  us  in  love. 

Though  Nature  shrinks  beneath  the  rod, 

Yet  Grace  reposes  still  on  God ! 

It  is  the  Lord  that  strikes  the  blow, 
Let  every  murm'ring  thought  be  still : 

Oft  has  he  made  my  cup  overflow 

And  shall  I  dare  dispute  his  will  ? 

For  ever  be  the  thought  abhorr'd 

My  soul,  still  wait  thou  on  the  Lord  ? 

Wait.. ..till  He  bids  thy  sorrows  cease, 
Till  He  thy  every  care  remove  ; 

And  though  thy  troubles  fast  increase, 
Thou  need'st  not  doubt  thy  Father's  love 

Though  He  delays,  yet  trust  his  word, 

For  true  and  faithful  is  the  Lord. 


40 


Yes,  Israel's  God  was  never  known 
To  leave  his  children  in  distress  : 

Mercy  and  truth  surround  his  throne, 
His  judgments  are  in  righteousness  ; 

Still  shall  my  soul  this  truth  accord, 

I  will  for  ever  trust  the  Lord ! 


It  is  unnecessary  to  remark  on  the  justness  of  the  sentiments  of 
this  little  piece,  or  to  point  out,  that  it  gives  a  faithful  delineation 
of  what  passes  in  the  pious  mind  accustomed  to  refer  every  thing 
to  God editor. 


41 


TO  If.  SMITH. 

THE  INQUIRY. 

WHEN  late  you  ask'd,  "  Where  do  your  parents 
dwell?" 

Unconscious  of  the  pain  your  question  gave  ; 
For  still  this  heart  with  agony  will  swell 

When  memory  whispers..."  They  are  in  the  grave." 

I  have  no  parents,  sadly  I  replied, 

While  down  my  cheeks  th'  unbidden  tear  would  flow, 
Nor  am  I,  by  the  ties  of  blood  allied 

To  one  kind  being  in  this  world  below. 

A  tender  father's  care  I  never  knew, 

One  only  parent  blest  my  early  years  ; 

Beneath  a  mother's  fost'ring  shade  I  grew 

From  infancy  to  youth.. ..devoid  of  fears. 
Q2 


42 


Unknown  to  me  was  every  cause  of  grief, 
No  anxious  cares  my  happy  mind  distressed, 

Health  and  content  still  bloom'd  upon  my  cheek . 
And  cheerfulness  dwelt  ever  in  my  breast. 

To  youthful  minus  each  object  brings  delight, 
The  world  presents  unnumber'd  charms  to  view, 

And  fancy'd  pleasures  eagerly  invite, 
Yet  oft,  in  vain,  the  phantom  we  pursue ! 

Scarce  had  I  enter'd  on  the  world's  wide  stage, 
Elate  with  youth's  gay  hopes  of  promis'd  bliss, 

When  soon  a  different  scene  my  thoughts  engage, 
And  into  sorrow  turn'd  my  happiness. 

For,  ah !  Disease  had  fix'd  his  fatal  dart 

Within  that  breast,  far  dearer  than  my  own  j 

And  vain,  alas !  where  all  the  attempts  of  art 
To  save  the  destin'd  victim  from  the  tomb ! 


43 


Tho'  many  a  year  has  run  its  circling  round 
Since  my  lov'd  parent  was  to  dust  consign' d  ; 

Yet  in  my  heart  her  image  yet  is  found, 

Still  lives  the  mother,  in  her  daughter's  mind  ! 

One  tender  tie  remain'd....a  brother  dear.... 

But  he,  alas  !  Misfortune's  victim  prov'd, 
And  oft  have  I  conceal'd  the  falling  tear, 

Lest  it  should  wound  the  bosom  which  I  lov'd  ! 

Chill  penury  and  sickness  were  his  lot, 
Yet,  was  he  to  his  Maker's  will  resigned, 

And  all  his  wants  and  sorrows  were  forgot, 
For  love  divine  sustain'd  his  youthful  mind. 

He  view'd  the  approach  of  death  with  joyful  eyes, 

And  often  strove  my  heavy  heart  to  cheer, 
"  Soon,"  said  the  expiring  saint,  "  I  reach  the  skies, 
"  And,  oh,  my  sister  !  let  me  meet  thee  there  !" 


44 


••••Forgive  these  tears,  my  Mary.. ..you  have  known 
Those  agonizing  pangs  that  pierce  the  heart ; 

You  too  have  wept  o'er  a  lov'd  parent's  tomb, 
And  felt  what  'tis  from  those  we  love  to  part ! 

••••Now,  on  the  world's  bleak  waste,  I  stand  alone. 

An  unprotected  orphan  I  am  left ; 
To  me,  the  names  of  kindred  are  unknown, 

Of  each  endearing  comfort,  I'm  bereft ! 

Yet,  though  a  tender  sadness  fills  my  breast, 
I  u  sorrow  not  as  those  who  have  no  hope ;" 

For  to  that  God  who  gives  the  weary  rest, 
With  humble  confidence  I  dare  look  up. 

I  know  my  heavenly  Father,  good  and  kind, 
Will  not,  without  a  cause,  his  children  grieve, 

His  promises  support  and  cheer  my  mind, 
And  countless  mercies  I  from  him  receive ! 


45 


ODE 

ADDRESSED  TO  THE  GRAY  COAT  SCHOOL  j* 

The  former  scene  of  my  happiest  days. 

BLEST  be  the  spot,  where  Charity  presides, 
Where  Pity,  for  the  Orphans'  wants  provides, 
And  gently  strives  to  cheer  the  drooping  mind 
Of  those  who  erst  in  want  and  mis'ry  pin'd  ; 

And  with  kind  assiduous  care, 

Wipes  away  the  falling  tear 

From  the  pale  cheek,  where  Penury 

Had  dampt  the  playful  mirth  of  infancy, 
Bids  every  anxious  fear  depart, 

And  heals  with  soft  Compassion's  balm,  the  bleeding  heart ! 


*  See  an  account  of  this  institution,  and  of  the  new  regulations 
introduced  into  it,  in  a  pamphlet  entitled,  "  An  Accountof  two 
Charity  Schools,  &c.  by  Catharine  Cappe ." 


46 


O,  sweet  employ!  to  guide  the  steps  of  those 

Who  late  in  ignorance  and  error  stray'd ; 
To  snatch  the  helpless  infant  from  the  woes, 
Which  cheerless  Poverty  around  her  spread 
To  pour  instruction  o'er  the  mind, 
Ere  now  in  ignorance  confin'd  ; 
Each  youthful  bosom  to  inspire 
With  sacred  Virtue's  gen'rous  fire, 

To  point  them  upwards  to  that  blest  abode, 
Where  dwells  enthron'd  in  light,  their  maker.. ..God* 

And  oh,  how  sweet  to  tell  the  love 

Which  the  Messiah  bore, 
When,  for  our  sakes,  he  left  his  seat  above, 
And  our  weak,  sinful  nature  wore  ! 
When  Angels  wond'ring  stood  to  see 
The  Lord  of  life  hang  bleeding  on  the  tree !... 
Amaz'd  to  hear  such  love,  they  raise 
Their  lisping  tongues  to  sing.. ..their  great  Redeemer's 
praise. 


47 


Within  that  tranquil,  calm  retreat, 
The  kindred  Virtues  love  to  meet, 

(Religion  leads  the  train) 
And  listens  to  the  orphan's  song, 
Whilst  Echo  doth  the  notes  prolong;.... 

Harmonious,  grateful  strain ! 
There,  white  rob'd  Innocence  is  seen, 
And  Cheerfulness,  with  look  serene, 

Mild,  unassuming  Modesty, 

Content  and  smiling  Industry  ; 
Whilst  Heaven's  approving  eye  surveys, 
How  in  sweet  piety  they  pass  their  peaceful  days. 

Be  ever  blest  ye  gen'rous  souls, 
Attentive  to  the  tender  calls, 

Of  soft  Humanity ! 
Who,  in  the  dwelling  of  despair, 
Bid  the  seraph,  Hope,  appear, 
To  ease  the  anguish  of  the  throbbing  breast. 
By  fond  parental  fears  distress'd. 


48 


Dear  honour'd  Guardians  of  my  infancy, 
Whose  kindness  cheer'd  my  opening  morn, 
May  all  who  feel  your  gentle  sway, 
With  gratitude  your  cares  repay  : 
With  rapture  may  your  bosoms  glow, 
With  kindlingjoy  may  you  behold, 
In  those,  so  late  a  prey  to  want  and  woe, 

The  buds  of  virtue  first  begin  t'  unfold. 
Still  follow  Mercy's  golden  rule, 
And  with  redoubled  zeal  pursue 
The  godlike  end  you  have  in  view, 
While  thousands  yet  unborn, 
Shall  bless  the  generous  Founders  of  the  Grey  Coat 
School. 


49 


PARAPHRASE  OF  MAT.  XI.  28. 


COME  UNTO  ME  ALL  YE  THAT  LABOUR  AND  ARE 
"  HEAVY  LADEN,  AND  I  WILL  GIVE  YOU  REST." 


COME  every  soul  by  sin  oppress'd, 
And  burdened  with  the  heavy  load, 

Enter  into  your  Saviour's  rest, 

Taste  of  his  grace,  and  trust  his  word. 

He  calls  the  weary  wand'rer  home, 
And  can  you  still  that  call  refuse  ? 

E'en  sinners  He  invites  to  come, 
His  kindness,  will  you  yet  abuse  ? 

See  where  your  gracious  Saviour  stands, 

Waiting  each  outcast  to  receive  ; 

For  you  He  spreads  his  pierced  hands, 

Ah !  be  not  faithless,  but  believe  ! 
E 


50 


Believe  in  Him  who  died  for  you,* 
Who  died  that  you  might  ever  live  ! 

He  will  your  fainting  strength  renew,f 
And  grace  and  glory  to  you  give. 


*  There  is  a  sense,  and  a  very  important  one,  in  which  the 
Editor  can  here  join  issue  with  the  Author ;  for  if  our  blessed  Lord 
had  not  died  a  violent  as  well  as  a  public  death,  we  of  this  distant 
day  could  not  have  had  the  proofs  we  now  possess  of  the  reality  of 
his  death,  and  should  have  wanted  the  peculiar  consolations  we 
now  enjoy  in  consequence  of  his  triumphant  resurrection  from  the 
dead,  and  of  his  ascension  to  a  state  of  glory ;  by  which,  to  adopt 
the  highly  figurative  language  of  an  Apostle,  "  he  led  captivity 
"  captive,  and  obtained  gifts  for  men  ;*'  viz.  the  gifts  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  He  may  therefore  not  unjustly  be  said,  to  have  died  for  us, 
i.  e.  for  our  benefit. 

t  "  He  will  your  fainting  strength  renew"....  Here  again  the  Edi- 
tor can  adopt  the  language  of  the  Author,  since  Christ  is  justly 
said  to  do,  whatever  is  affected  by  his  gospel. ...editor. 


51 


O  hasten  then,  refuse  no  more 

To  hear  your  honoured  Shepherd's  voice 
To  bear  your  burden  He  has  pow'r, 

His  love  can  make  the  heart  rejoice. 


52 


WRITTEN 

UNDER  GREAT  DOUBT,  AND  ANXIETY  OF  MIND,  1801 

O  THOU  whose  piercing  eye  surveys 

The  inmost  secrets  of  my  soul, 
O  guide  me  in  thy  sacred  ways, 

And  all  my  actions,  Lord,  controul. 

Wisely  to  choose  is  my  desire  ;* 
But  O  do  thou  that  choice  direct, 

And  let  tlry  grace  my  soul  inspire, 
The  false  pretender  to  detect. 


*  If  young  Ladies  who  move  in  a  sphere  however  different 
from  that  of  a  simple  cook-maid,  would  in  this  instance  follow  her 
example,  and  entreat  of  God  to  direct  and  bless  their  matrimonial 
connections,  should  we  hear  so  frequently  of  their  uniting  them- 
selves with  men  of  the  most  unprincipled  and  libertine  character  ?.... 
Would  our  Newspapers  be  filled  Vith  so  many  unhappy  cases  in 
Doctors  Commons,  and  would  the  manners  of  too  many  among  the 
great,  continue  to  be,  as  they  are  at  present,  a  disgrace  and  a  re- 
proach to  their  countrv  ? editor 


53 


My  future  happiness  or  woe, 

Upon  my  present  choice  depend, 

Show  me  the  way  I  ought  to  go 

And  be  my  Father,  and  my  Friend ! 

Let  not  this  treacherous  heart  of  mine 
To  inclination  yield  the  sway, 

But  unto  thee  my  fate  resign, 

And  wait,  till  thou  shalt  point  the  way. 


E2 


54 


PRAISE  FOR  THE  BLESSINGS  OF  THE 
GOSPEL. 


LUKE  11.13,14.  "  AND  SUDDENLY  THERE  WAS  WITH  THE  AN- 
"  GEL  A  MULTITUDE  OF  THE  HEAVENLY  HOST  PRAISING 
"  GOD,  AND  SAYING,  GLORY  TO  GOD  IN  THE  HIGHEST,  AND 
"  ON  EARTH  PEACE,  GOOD  WILL  TOWARDS  MEN." 


AWAKE  my  muse,  awake  and  sing 
The  praises  of  thy  heav'nly  King  ; 
Awake  and  join  the  sacred  throng, 
The  Saviour's  love  demands  thy  song. 
In  grateful  strains  attune  thy  lyre 
And  emulate  th'  Angelic  choir, 
Loudly  the  joyful  news  proclaim 
Salvation,  is  in  Jesu's  name  ! 
Salvation !  shout  the  glorious  sound, 
Proclaim  it  to  the  world  around. 


55 


Tell  ev'ry  fearful  trembling  soul, 

The  Saviour's  word  shall  make  him  whole, 

Invite  the  indigent  to  come, 

Jesus  declares  there  still  is  room : 

Jesus  !  that  name  shall  calm  their  fears, 

Dispel  their  doubts  and  dry  their  tears, 

Shall  ease  the  anxious  throbbing  breast, 

And  give  the  weary  mourner  rest: 

Jesus  !  my  Prophet,  Priest,  and  King, 
To  him  in  grateful  strains  I'll  sing; 
I'll  praise  him  whilst  I  have  my  breath, 
And  when  my  voice  is  lost  in  death, 
O  may  my  happier  spirit  rise 
To  join  the  chorus  in  the  skies ! 


56 


A  VALENTINE, 

ADDRESSED  BY  THE  AUTHOR  TO  A,  B. 
FEB.  14,  1802. 

NO  tales  of  love  to  you  I  send, 

No  hidden  flame  discover, 
I  glory  in  the  name  of  Friend, 

Disclaiming  that  of  Lover. 
And  now  while  each  fond  sighing  youth 
Repeats  his  vows  of  love  and  truth, 
Attend  to  this  advice  of  mine  j 
With  caution  choose  a  Valentine. 

Heed  not  the  Fop  who  loves  himself, 
Nor  let  the  Rake  your  love  obtain  ; 
Choose  not  the  Miser  for  his  pelf, 

The  Drunkard,  treat  with  cold  disdain. 
The  Profligate  with  caution  shun, 
His  race  of  ruin  soon  is  run : 
To  none  of  these  your  heart  incline, 
Nor  choose  from  them  a  Valentine. 


57 


But,  should  some  gen'rous  youth  appear 

Whose  honest  mind  is  void  of  art, 
Who  shall  his  Maker's  laws  revere, 

And  serve  Him  with  a  willing  heart  ; 
Who  owns  fair  Virtue  for  his  guide, 
Nor  from  her  precepts  turns  aside  j 
To  him  at  once  your  heart  resign, 
And  bless  your  faithful  Valentine. 

Though  in  this  wilderness  below 

You  still  imperfect  bliss  shall  find, 
Yet  such  a  friend  will  share  each  woe, 
And  bid  you  be  to  Heav'n  resign' d : 
While  faith  unfolds  the  radiant  prize, 
And  Hope  still  points  beyond  the  skies, 
At  life's  dark  storms  you'll  not  repine, 
But  bless  the  day  of  Valentine. 


58 


VALENTINE 

TO  R.  R.  WRITTEN  EXTEMPORE,  FEB.  14,  1802. 

CUSTOM,  whose  laws  we  all  allow, 
And  bow  before  his  shrine, 
Has  so  ordain'd,  my  Friend,  that  you 
Are  now  my  Valentine. 

Ah,  could  my  humble  Muse  aspire        « 

To  catch  the  flame  divine  ! 
These  are  the  gifts  that  I'd  require 

For  thee,  my  Valentine. 

May  Virtue  o'er  thy  steps  preside, 

And  in  thy  conduct  shine  ; 
May  Truth  and  Wisdom  ever  guide 

And  guard  my  Valentine. 


59 

May  Piety,  seraphic  maid ! 

Her  influence  divine 
Shed  on  thy  head,  and  ever  lead, 

And  bless  my  Valentine. 

Life's  dang'rous  paths  safe  may'st  thou  tread. 

Shielded  by  Grace  divine  ; 
And  when  these  artless  lines  are  read, 

Think  on  thy  Valentine  ! 


60 

TO  AN  ACQUAINTANCE, 

ON  HER  MARRIAGE, 

ACCOMPANIED  BY  A  SMALL   PRESENT,    1802. 

THOUGH  small  the  gift  to  you  I  send, 

Acceptance  let  it  meet, 
For  even  trifles  from  a  Friend 

To  Friendship's  eye  are  sweet. 

O  may  you  ev'ry  blessing  prove 

The  marriage  state  can  give ; 
Enjoy  the  sweets  of  mutual  love, 

And  blest,  and  blessing,  live ! 

And  may  the  Youth  whom  you  prefer, 
Prove  worthy  of  your  choice  ; 

May  he  his  Maker's  laws  revere, 
And  in  his  ways  rejoice. 


61 


For  Piety  can  cheer  the  mind 
Which  various  cares  depress, 

Can  give  (what  worldlings  never  find) 
Contentment,  joy,  and  peace! 

Though  gloomy  prospects  should  arise 

And  cast  a  shade  around  ; 
Confide  in  him  who  built  the  skies. 

In  him  your  help  is  found. 

All  those  who  on  his  aid  depend, 

Who  in  his  name  confide, 
Shall  find  in  him  a  faithful  Friend, 

A  Father,  and  a  Guide. 


62 
ELEGY 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  T.  WITHERS,  APRIL,  1802 


**  THE  BLESSING  OF  HIM  THA.T  "WAS  READY  TO  PERISH  CAME 
"  UPON  HEP.,  AND  SHE  CAUSED  THE  HEART  OF  THE  WIDOW 
AND  THE  ORPHAN  TO  SING  FOR  JOY." 


ONCE  more  my  weeping  Muse  attunes  her  lyre, 
Once  more  she  tries  the  elegiac  strain  ; 

And  though  she  boasts  no  rich  poetic  fire, 
Nor  forms  a  wish  the  meed  of  Fame  to  gain ; 

Yet  doth  this  heart  with  warm  affection  glow, 
Soft  gratitude  my  feeble  lays  inspire, 

Withers,  for  thee  these  streaming  sorrows  flow, 
For  thee,  to  mournful  notes,  I  touch  the  lyre. 


63 


Yes,  my  lov'd  Benefactress  !  in  this  heart 
Thy  cherish'd  image  evermore  shall  dwell, 

Nor  from  thy  lov'd  idea  will  I  part, 

Long  as  this  falt'ring  tongue  thy  worth  can  tell ! 

Dear,  gen'rous  guardian  of  my  early  years, 
With  grateful  tenderness  I  oft  review 

Thy  kind  solicitude,  thy  watchful  cares, 

Till  sorrowing  thoughts,  my  tearful  grief  renew. 

Whene'er  in  Folly's  path  I  heedless  stray'd, 
Thy  friendly  voice  my  erring  steps  reprov'd  ; 

I  heard  the  call,  and  eagerly  obey'd, 

In  hope  once  more  to  be  by  thee  approv'd  : 

But  now  no  more  can  I  thy  aid  receive, 

That  aid,  which  all  who  sought,  were  sure  to  gain, 

For  'twas  thy  greatest  pleasure  to  relieve, 
And  socth  the  victim  of  disease  and  pain. 


64 


The  wretched  and  the  poor  were  still  thy  care, 
The  weak  and  needy,  found  in  thee  a  friend ! 

For  thee  to  heav'n  the  Widow's  fervent  pray'r, 
For  thee  the  Orphan's  blessings  did  ascend! 

Yon  sorrowing  throng,  Whom  late  thy  bounty  fed, 

Who  from  thy  lib'ral  hand  found  sure  relief, 
Now  mourn  in  tears  their  Benefactress  dead, 
And  in  pathetic  strains  express  their  grief! 

See  drown' d  in  tears,  yon  lately  smiling  band 
Of  helpless  Infants,  who  thy  loss  deplore, 
Now  fill'd  with  grief  the  artless  mourners  stand,    ' 
And  weeping  tell,  that  Withers  is  no  more  ! 

Yet  while  we  mourn  thy  loss,  we'll  raise  our  eyes, 
And  view  by  faith  the  palm  and  starry  crown  ; 

Faith  shall  unfold  the  glories  of  the  skies, 
And  point  to  joys  that  live  beyond  the  tomb  ! 


65 


Why  then  lament  ?....Sure  they  are  greatly  blest 
Who  to  their  Saviour  can  their  souls  entrust, 

For  them  he  hath  prepared  a  place  of  rest, 
Where  Hope  itself  is  in  fruition  lost. 

No  longer  then  of  Withers'  death  complai] 
Rather  rejoice  that  all  her  suff  'rings  cease  . 

For  her  a  to  live,  was  Christ,  to  die  v.  as  gain," 
And  now  she  triumphs  in  the  realms  cf  n 


F  2 


66 


ELEGY 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  LATE  DR.  ROBERT  CAPPE, 

On  a  voyage  to  Italy,  for  the  recovery  of  his  health,* 

November  16,  1802. 

IF  modest  worth  and  sweetness  could  obtain 
A  respite  from  the  tyrant's  conquering  hour, 

Lamented  Cappe  !  then  had  we  not  in  vain 
Implor'd  for  thee,  Health's  renovating  pow'r. 

But  ah !  nor  prayers,  nor  tears  can  aught  avail 
To  ward  from  thee,  the  last  decisive  blow, 

With  grief  we  see  each  varied  method  fail, 
Compell'd  to  leave  thee  to  the  ruthless  foe ! 


*  He  attended  the  Author  in  a  severe  illness  already  alluded 
to,  in  the  year  1800,  and  was  happily  instrumental  to  her  re- 
covery  editor-. 


67 


Say  ye,  who  oft  have  felt  his  healing  aid, 

And  blest  the  hand  by  which  ye  were  restor'd ; 

How  great  the  tenderness  which  he  display'd, 
What  anxious  kindness  in  each  gentle  word ! 

Mute  is  that  tongue,  whose  soothing  accents  cheer'd 
The  languid  soul,  by  Sickness  dire  oppress'd  ; 

Clos'd  are  those  eyes,  which,  when  Distress  appeared ; 
Spoke  the  warm  feelings  of  a  gen'rous  breast ! 

That  heart  which  keenly  felt  for  others'  woe, 
Has  ceas'd  to  beat,  and  can  be  pain'd  no  more  j 

O'er  his  pale  corpse  the  wat'ry  billows  flow, 
Far  distant  from  his  once  lov'd  native  shore  !* 


*  See  Memoirs  of  his  Life,  by  the  Rev.  Charles  Wellbeloved, 
affixed  to  a  volume  of  Sermons,  lately  published,  of  his  late  Fa- 
ther's, the  Rev.  Newcome  Cappe editor. 


6S 


What  !  though  no  sculptur'd  monument  appears, 
No  pompous  epitaphs  his  praise  express, 

From  numerous  eyes  the  tributary  tears 

Far  more  than  words,  his  real  worth  express  ! 

Mysterious  Heav'n  !  how  wond'rous  are  thy  ways ! 

Yet  let  not  us  presume  those  ways  to  scan, 
Not  dare,  'gainst  God,  a  murm'ring  thought  to  raise. 

For  resignation,  is  the  part  of  man. 


69 


INVITATION  TO  THE  SACRAMENT. 


THE  Lord  of  hosts  a  feast  prepares, 
And  bids  the  poor  and  needy  come  ; 

Ye  wand'rers  haste  !  for  he  declares 
For  every  sinner  there  is  room. 

Ye  broken-hearted,  self-abhorr'd,  * 
Who  groan  beneath  the  weight  of  sin, 

Approach  the  table  of  the  Lord, 

His  word  hath  power  to  make  you  clean. 

Ye  faithful  followers  of  the  Lord, 

Whom  the  unthinking  world  despise. 

Who  boldly  dare  his  love  record, 

Now  let  your  pray'rs,  like  incense,  rise. 


70 


Here  in  the  mystic  bread  and  wine, 

Your  Saviour's  death  you  see  display'd ; 

Here  the  Redeemer's  glories  shine, 
'Tis  here  his  faithful  ones  are  fed. 

Behold !  his  body  bruis'd  and  torn, 
Mangled  and  scourg'd  by  cruel  men  j 

See  on  his  head  the  thorny  crown, 
The  crown  of  agony  and  pain  ! 

Those  feet,  "  so  beautiful,"  which  brought, 
a  Good  tidings  of  salvation"  nigh  j 

Those  hands,  so  oft  in  pray'r  stretch'd  out, 
Now  on  the  cross  extended  lie  ! 

The  soldiers  mocking,  bend  the  knee, 
And  "  Hail  King  of  the  Jews,"  exclaim, 

Whilst  bare  contempt,  and  infamy, 
Are  heap'd  upon  his  sacred  name  ! 


71 


Those  voices,  which  so  lately  cry'd 
"  Hosanna  to  king  David's  Son," 

Now  shout,  "  Let  him  be  crucified," 
And  lo  !  the  impious  deed  is  done  ! 

Behold  him  on  the  accursed  tree, 

Behold  the  blood  flow  from  his  side  : 

Sinner,  that  blood  was  shed  for  thee  ! 
For  thee,  thy  Lord  and  Saviour  dy'd ! 

Ye  who  the  Saviour  love,  draw  near, 
Once  more  your  sacred  cov'nant  seal, 

His  own  blest  ordinance  revere, 
And  all  your  wants  to  him  reveal. 

Wayfaring  pilgrims  bound  for  Heav'n, 
And  trav'ling  through  a  dang'rous  road, 

Lord,  let  thy  grace  to  us  be  giv'n, 
And  guide  us  to  thy  blest  abode ! 


72 


May  all  who  now  assemble  here, 

And  Jesus  "  Lord  and  Master"  call, 

In  yon  bright  realms  of  bliss  appear, 
"Where  God  we  know,  is  "  all  in  all."* 


*  1  Cor.  xv.  24—29 


73 
OlSKMY  BIRTH-DAY, 

MARCH  5,    1803. 

AND  now  another  year  is  gone, 

Another  natal  hour  I  view ; 
The  past  will  never  more  return, 

O  may  I  well  begin  the  new  ! 

May  I  devote  this  year  to  God, 
And  in  his  service  spend  my  days, 

Direct  my  conduct  by  his  word, 
And  only  live,  his  name  to  praise  ! 

May  I  resolve  to  bear  the  cross, 

My  Saviour's  steps  with  zeal  pursue. 

To  count  my  highest  gain  but  loss, 
Till  faith  and  love  my  soul  renew  ! 


If  Sin  entice  my  wand'ring  heart, 
Or  Pleasure's  form  my  soul  allure  ; 

Oh  may  I  feel  Contrition's  smart, 
Nor  rest,  till  I  obtain  the  cure  ! 

As  life's  delusive  maze  I  tread, 
Still  let  me  in  thy  name  confide  ; 

Amidst  the  dangers  round  me  spread, 
Do  thou  vouchsafe  to  be  my  guide  ! 


75 


ADDRESSED, 
DURING  MY  OWN  SEVERE  ILLNESS, 

TO  THE  KINDEST  OF  HUSBANDS. 

WHY  heaves  my  Richardson  that  piercing  sigh? 

Why  thus  to  unavailing  grief  give  way  ? 
Why  dost  thou  raise  to  Heav'n  that  mournful  eye, 

That  agonizing  look  of  deep  dismay  ? 

What  though  disease  has  o'er  thy  Charlotte  spread 
Its  pallid  hue,  and  wither'd  every  bloom, 

Though  balmy  health  from  her  pale  cheek  is  fled, 
And  wasting  sickness  bears  her  to  the  tomb  ; 

Ah  !  why  regret  that  all  her  pains  shall  cease  ? 

Why  sorrow,  that  her  weary  days  are  past  ? 
That  in  yon  mansions  of  eternal  peace, 

Her  steadfast  soul  shall  find  relief  at  last. 


76 


There,  sin  and  sorrow  shall  assail  no  more 
Her  happy  spirit  ,*  there,  increasing  joy 

Shall  fill  her  soul ;  and  ever  to  adore 

Her  God  and  Saviour,  be  her  sweet  employ ! 


Fain  would  she  bow  submissive  to  his  will, 
Nor  at  her  Makers  dread  decree  repine, 

Would  bid  each  rising,  murm'ring  thought,  be  still, 
And  calmly,  thee,  her  best  belov'd !  resign, 


But  ah!  fond  Nature,  here  asserts  her  claim, 
And  re-assumes  her  empire  in  this  breast, 

Affection  binds  me  with  her  pow'rful  chain, 
For  who  like  me,  have  been  so  truly  blest ! 


UnequalPd  love  and  tenderness  were  thine, 
Which  time  not  lessen'd,  but  the  more  increased 

In  thee  the  lover  and  the  friend  combine, 

Deep  in  my  heart,  thy  kindness  is  impress'd. 


77 


WHEN  THREATENED  WITH  AN  IN- 
VASION, 

IN    THE    SUMMER    OF    1803. 

ALMIGHTY  God,  with  pitying  eye, 
Look  down  upon  our  troubled  land, 

To  thee  alone  for  aid  we  cry, 

We  trust  in  thy  all-pow'rful  hand : 

Once  more  let  war  and  discord  cease, 

Restore  again  the  joys  of  peace  ! 

With  grief  and  shame,  Lord,  we  confess 

That  our  iniquities  abound  ; 
Our  sins,  alas  !  are  numberless, 

Light  in  the  balance  we  are  found  ! 
Whilst  vice  on  ev'ry  side  we  see, 
How  dare  we  lift  our  eyes  to  thee  J 

G  2 


78 


Thy  holy  sabbaths  are  profan'd ; 

Each  daring  sinner,  slights  thy  word  ! 
Thy  sacred  name  how  oft  blasphem'd  ; 

What  multitudes  forget  their  God  ! 
Lord,  humbly  in  the  dust  we  own 
Our  sins  have  cali'd  thy  judgments  down  ? 

A  favour5  d  nation  we  have  been, 

Blest  with  the  gospel's  joyful  sound  ; 

Justice  in  Britain  held  her  reign, 

And  faithful  pastors  there  were  found  : 

....Well  may  we  fear,  so  base  we've  prov'd, 

Our  gospel  light  may  be  remov'd ! 

Yet,  are  there  not  a  pious  few 

Who  deeply  mourn  these  ills  to  see  ? 

For  Zion's  welfare  who  renew 

Their  supplications,  Lord,  to  thee! 

Vouchsafe  to  hear  their  earnest  pray'r, 

And  our  endanger'd  country  spare  I 


79 


PARAPHRASE 


WRITTEN  IN  MY  DEAR  HUSBAND'S  LAST  ILLNESS. 


LEAVE  THY  FATHERLESS  CHILDRRN,  I  WILL  PROTECT  THEM, 
AND  LET  THY  WIDOWS  TRUST  IN  ME."  JER.  XLIX.  11. 


*  WHY  is  thy  heart  with  grief  oppress'd  ? 
1  And  why  hath  sorrow  fill'd  thy  breast  ? 

1  These  flowing  tears  restrain ! 

*  Still  to  thy  Maker's  will  divine," 
1  Submissive  bow,  nor  dare  repine 

1  At  aught  he  shall  ordain  * 


80 


'  Commit  thyself  to  me,  thy  Lord, 
4  Repose  thyself  upon  my  word, 

c  And  in  my  truth  confide ; 
1  Thy  tender  babes  shall  be  my  care, 
4  I'll  guard  them  from  each  hurtful  snare, 

"  And  for  their  wants  provide. 

4  If  they  my  statutes  shall  observe, 

*  I  them  from  evil  will  preserve, 

4  And  be  their  constant  friend  ; 

*  I'll  bless  them  with  my  saving  grace, 

4  I'll  lead  them  through  the  paths  of  peace, 
4  To  joys  that  never  end. 

4  No  longer  then  in  sadness  grieve, 

*  But  in  my  promises  believe, 

4  Which  steadfast  are  and  sure  ; 
4  Thy  dearest  comforts  now  resign, 
<  And  raise  thy  thoughts  to  joys  divine, 

4  And  to  the  end  endure.' 


81 


Here  then  my  soul,  securely  rest, 
Nor  let  one  anxious  fear  molest, 

Or  more  disturb  thy  peace, 
Whate'er  thy  Maker  shall  decree, 
Is  wise,  and  good,  and  best  for  thee, 

His  ways  are  righteousness. 

And  thou,  dear  partner  of  my  heart, 
Repine  not,  though  we  now  must  part, 

But  with  submission  bow, 
For  He  who  crown'd  our  marriage  state 
With  blessings  numerous  and  great, 

Can  higher  bliss  bestow. 

United  by  the  tend'rest  love, 
Severe  indeed  the  stroke  will  prove 

That  shall  that  union  rend  ; 
Though  painful  now  to  part,  yet  soon 
We  meet  where  sorrow  is  unknown, 

Where  joy  shall  never  end. 


82 


AFTER  THE  DEATH  OF  MY  DEAR  HUS- 
BAND, 1804. 


BEREFT  of  all  I  lov'd  below, 
Of  all  that  could  this  life  endear, 

My  blooming  prospects  chang'd  to  woe, 
How  gloomy  does  the  scene  appear ! 

Whatever  way  I  turn  mine  eyes, 
No  gleam  of  comfort  can  I  see, 

For  all  that  my  fond  heart  could  prize, 
Was  centred,  Richardson  !  in  thee. 

Yes,  thou  wert  dearer  to  my  soul 
Than  all  this  flatt'ring  world  can  give 

My  life,  my  treasure,  and  my  all, 
For  thee  alone  I  wish'd  to  live  f 


83 


Fondly  I  dream'd  of  lasting  bliss, 

But  ah  !  how  soon  my  dream  was  broke ! 

And  all  my  boasted  happiness 
Was  ended,  by  that  fatal  stroke  ! 

A  Widow's  mournful  name  I  bear, 
By  sorrow  and  by  care  oppress'd, 

No  sounds  of  joy  salute  mine  ear, 
And  grief  sits  heavy  on  my  breast. 

My  Infant  smiles  and  looks  so  gay, 

Redoubling  every  pain  I  feel : 
To  grief  and  misery  a  prey, 

What  can  my  wounded  bosom  heal  ? 

My  God  !  to  thee  I  raise  mine  eyes, 

Calm  resignation  I  implore  ; 
O  let  no  murm'ring  thought  arise, 

But  humbly,  let  me  still  adore, 


84 


With  meek  submission,  may  I  bear 
Each  needful  cross  thou  shalt  ordain  ; 

Nor  think  my  trials  too  severe, 
Nor  dare  thy  justice  to  arraign. 

For  though  mysterious  now  thy  ways 
To  erring  mortals  may  appear, 

Hereafter  we  thy  name  shall  praise 
For  all  our  keenest  suff 'rings  here. 

Now,  Lord,  thy  needful  aid  afford, 
Nor  let  me  sink  in  deep  despair, 

Aid  me  to  trust  thy  sacred  word, 
To  find  nvji;  sweetest  comforts  there. 

Though  thorns  and  briers  choke  the  way 
My  trembling  feet  are  doom'd  to  tread  ;. 

Though  clouds  of  terror  and  dismay 
Are  bursting  o'er  my  helpless  head ; 


85 


Yet  Faith  unveils  a  brighter  scene, 
"Where  all  life's  painful  conflicts  cease, 

Where  no  dark  clouds  ere  intervene, 
No  sorrows  ere  disturb  our  peace ! 


H 


86 


TO  MY  INFANT  ASLEEP. 

SLEEP  on,  sweet  babe,  for  thou  canst  sleep  ! 

No  sorrows  rend  thy  peaceful  breast, 
Thy  pensive  Mother  wakes  to  weep, 

Depriv'd  by  grief,  of  balmy  rest  ! 

May  angels  watch  around  thy  bed, 
Thee  safe  from  ev'ry  ill  defend ; 

May  heav'n  unnumbered  blessings  shed, 
And  be  thy  never  failing  friend  ! 

Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  my  baby  dear, 
Thy  little  heart  from  sorrow  free, 

Knows  not  the  anxious  pangs  that  tear 
Thy  Mother's  breast,  sweet  babe,  for  thee  ! 


87 


Soft  be  thy  slumbers,  Sorrow's  child  ! 

Serene  and  tranquil  be  thy  rest ; 
Oft  have  thy  smiles  my  tears  beguil'd, 

And  sooth'd  my  agitated  breast ! 

Thine  infant  tongue  has  never  known 
A  father's  name,  nor  can  thine  eyes 

Recal  to  mind  the  graceful  form, 
That  low  in  Death's  embraces  lies  ! 

But  I,  in  thee  delight  to  trace, 
That  form,  so  tenderly  belov'd  ! 

To  picture  in  thy  smiling  face 

His  image,  far  from  earth  remov'd  ! 

His  pious  cares  thou  canst  not  share, 
Nor  can  he  guide  thy  tender  youth, 

Or  guard  thee  from  each  hurtful  snare, 
Or  lead  thee  in  the  paths  of  truth  ! 


88 


The  sad,  yet  pleasing  task,  be  mine, 
To  virtue's  ways,  thy  mind  to  form, 

To  point  to  thee  those  truths  divine. 
Which  in  the  gospel  are  made  known. 

With  Reason's  dawn  thou  shalt  be  taught, 
Thy  father's  God  betimes  to  know ; 

The  wonders  he  for  us  hath  wrought, 
Shall  be  thy  mother's  task  to  show* 

Each  rising,  and  each  setting  sun, 
Thy  little  hands  in  pray'r  shall  raise, 

And  early,  shalt  thine  infant  tongue 
Be  taught  to  lisp  thy  Maker's  praise ! 


89 


TO  MY  DEAREST  FRIEND  M.  S , 

ON  HER  BIRTH-DAY. 

TO  hail  my  M  ary's  natal  day, 

The  Muse  her  simple  tribute  brings  j 

Accept,  dear  friend,  the  artless  lay, 
Which  from  affection's  bosom  springs. 

Oh  Mary,  may  each  added  year, 

Be  with  each  increasing  comforts  crown' d  ; 
May  no  corroding,  anxious  care, 

No  adverse  storms  your  bosom  wound  ! 

How  many  in  their  early  bloom, 

Who  vainly  banish' d  every  fear, 

Are  sleeping  in  the  silent  tomb, 

Whilst  you  are  spar'd  another  year  ? 
H  2 


90 


Too  many  have  unheeded  past, 

And  death  may  now  be  drawing  nigh  ; 

This  year  perhaps  may  be  your  last.... 
Are  you,  my  friend,  prepared  to  die  ? 

Should  you  now  hear  the  awful  sound, 
"  The  bridegroom  comes,  ye  dead  arise, 

"  Awake,  ye  prisoners  of  the  tomb, 

"  And  meet  your  Saviour  in  the  skies." 

Could  you  with  hope  lift  up  your  head, 
And  joy  to  see  the  judge  appear  ? 

Or  would  your  soul  be  nll'd  with  dread, 
O'erwhelm'd  with  agonizing  fear  ? 

O  may  the  pow'r  of  truth  divine, 
Shine  forth  in  radiant  lustre  bright, 

Dispel  all  darkness  from  your  mind, 
And  fill  your  soul  with  heav'nly  light ! 


91 


Then  shall  you  find  this  maxim  true, 
"  Religion's  paths,  are  paths  of  peace," 

Her  pleasures  are  for  ever  new, 
Her  precepts  lead  to  happiness. 

Should  tlireat'ning  storms  around  you  rise, 
And  temporal  prospects  dark  appear, 

Religion  points  beyond  the  skies, 
She  bids  you  hope  for  comfort  there. 


92 


HE  SLEEPS.     1805. 

OFT  as  I  wander  round  the  spot, 

To  Sorrow  sacred  made, 
Beneath  whose  consecrated  turf. 

My  Richardson  is  laid  ; 
My  bleeding  heart  again  recalls 

Past  hours  of  heart-felt  bliss, 
Whilst  mem'ry  only  serves  to  make 

My  sorrows  flow  afresh  ! 

But  soft !  methinks  I  hear  a  voice 

Descending  from  above 
Which  cries,  '  my  chast'ning  hand  I  lay 

4  On  those  I  dearly  love  ; 

*  To  try  their  faith,  their  love  to  me, 

4  I  bid  their  joys  decrease, 

*  But  all  who  on  my  word  rely, 

4  In  me  find  perfect  peace.' 


93 


My  God!  I  hear  thine  awful  voice, 

And  dare  no  more  repine, 
Humbled  beneath  thy  mighty  arm, 

I  own  the  stroke  divine  ! 
I'll  strive  to  overcome  this  grief; 

Assist  me  with  thy  grace, 
And  let  me  in  affliction's  hour, 

Possess  my  soul  in  peace  ! 

For  ah !  why  should  this  wayward  heart 

In  fruitless  sorrow  mourn, 
Since  pain  and  sorrow  are  the  lot, 

Of  all  of  woman  born  ; 
My  Richardson  from  every  woe 

Has  found  a  sweet  release, 
And  in  the  mansions  of  the  tomb, 

He  sleeps,  and  is  at  peace  ! 


94 

No  more  can  Envy's  secret  sting 

Its  pois'nous  canker  spread, 
Malice  and  Calumny  no  more 

Their  baneful  venom  shed, 
Vain  are  their  efforts  now  to  wound, 

Their  idle  rage  may  cease, 
For  safe  within  the  silent  tomb, 

He  sleeps,  and  is  at  peace  ! 

But  chief,  no  more  the  tyrant  Sin, 

Can  ere  his  soul  enslave, 
The  captive's  loosen'd  from  his  chains, 

Through  Jesu's  pow'r  to  save  ; 
His  warfare  now  is  at  an  end, 

And  all  his  conflicts  cease, 
For  ever  freed,  he  now  enjoys, 

Uninterrupted  peace  ! 


95 


But  when  th'  Archangel's  voice  is  heard, 

Resounding  through  the  skies, 
^That  voice  which  cleaves  the  ponderous  tombs, 

And  bids  the  dead  arise) 
The  graves  obedient  hear  the  call, 

Their  prisoners  release, 
And  all  who  sleep  in  Jesus  now, 

Shall  reign  with  him  in  peace. 

May  I,  at  that  tremendous  hour, 

With  holy  joy  awake, 
And  with  the  ransom'd  of  the  Lord, 

In  endless  bliss  partake  ; 
My  Richardson  I  then  shall  join. 

Where  pain  and  parting  cease, 
And  spend  a  sweet  eternity, 

In  harmony  and  peace. 


96 


SONNET 

ADDRESSED  TO  MR.  M R,*  JUNE,  1805. 

MATHER,  'tis  thine,  with  heav'n-directed  skill, 

To  stay  the  progress  of  th'  insidious  foe, 
To  bid  the  pallid  cheek,  where  sickness  reigns, 

Once  more  with  health's  reviving  tints  to  glow. 
O  may  that  skill,  exerted  for  his  aid, 

Once  more  succeed  my  infant  to  restore.; 
That  I  no  longer  may  his  suff  'rings  mourn, 

Or,  in  my  child,  again  his  Sire  deplore  ! 

Then  shall  my  fervent  pray'rs  for  thee  ascend, 
To  him,  who  oft  hath  crow'nd  thee  with  success, 

My  infant  too  shall  join  his  voice  with  mine, 
The  kind  restorer  of  his  health,  to  bless ! 

May  heav'n  indulgent,  grant  me  this  request 

And  peace  again  shall  reign  within  my  troubled  breast. 

*  An  eminent  Surgeon  who  kindly  attended  the  Infant editor. 


97 


PRAYER 

FOR  MY  AFFLICTED  CHILD,  JULY  1805. 

GREAT  God  !  with  reverence  I  draw  near, 

And  bow  before  thy  throne, 
Vouchsafe  to  bend  a  gracious  ear, 

Whilst  I  my  griefs  make  known. 
Maternal  love  awakes  my  fears, 
Maternal  love  excites  my  tears, 
To  thee  I  fly  for  succour,  Lord, 
For  who,  but  Thou,  can  help  afford  ? 

O  Let  me  not  in  vain  implore 

Thy  kind,  thy  healing  aid, 
But   now  let  thy  Almighty  pow'r 

Be  for  my  help  display'd : 


98 


O  hear  a  widow'd  mother's  pray'r. 

My  Infant's  life  in  pity  spare, 
Preserve  my  child,  his  sickness  heal, 
Compassionate  the  grief  I  feel. 
With  pitying  eye  his  suff'rings  view. 

His  agonies  severe  :* 
Now,  while  I  for  thy  mercy  sue, 

For  his  relief  appear : 
O  thou  who  art  the  widow's  friend, 
In  mercy  to  my  aid  descend, 
Now  speak  the  sweet  reviving  word, 
"  Thy  prayer  is  heard,  thy  child's  restor'd. 

But  if  (for  well  thou  knowst,  O  Lord) 

His  future  life  would  be, 
Such  as  by  thee  would  be  abhorr'd, 

A  life  of  infamy : 


*  The  Infant  was  at  this  time  afflicted  with  a  most  excruciat- 
ing pain  in  his  head editor. 


99 


If  he  thy  sacred  laws  would  slight, 
And  in  the  paths  of  vice  delight, 
O  save  him  from  this  dreadful  doom, 
And  snatch  him  from  the  ills  to  come ! 

Keenly  indeed  my  heart  will  feel 

The  separating  blow, 
Yet,  Lord,  thy  grace  my  wounds  can  heal, 

Can  soften  every  woe  ; 
From  thee  I  did  my  child  receive, 
To  thee  that  dear  lov'd  child  I  give, 
The  pray'r  my  soul  would  now  make  known, 
Is,  "  not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done," 

Be  life,  or  death,  ordain'd  his  lot, 

I  am,  O  Lord,  resign'd, 
Nor  would  I  breathe  a  murm'ring  thought 

At  aught  by  thee  assign'd  ; 


100 

Though  Nature  mourns,  yet  Grace  shall  rise 
And  view  my  child  in  yonder  skies, 
There,  when  the  storms  of  life  are  o'er. 
Grant  we  may  meet  to  part  no  more. 


101 


TO  MRS.  P ,  NORTH  STREET. 

HOW  oft,  my  dearest  friend,  your  happy  state 

Recalls  past  images  of  bliss  to  view, 
When  I  enjoy'd  felicity  as  great, 

As  that,  my  Anna,  now  possess'd  by  you! 

Like  yours,  my  days  once  glided  smoothly  on, 
No  soul-corroding  grief  prey'd  oft  my  breast ; 

Now,  sad  reverse,  those  peaceful  days  are  gone, 
Remembrance  only  tells,  I  once  was  blest ! 

Through  yonder  groves,  to  catch  the  cooling  breeze 

Of  ev'ning  mild,  we  oft  were  wont  to  stray, 

Mark  where  the  moon-beams  glitter  thro'  the  trees, 

Or  on  the  water's  trembling  surface  play ! 
I  2 


102 


With  what  delight  our  raptur'd  eyes  survey'd 
Yon  azure  vault,  where  worlds  unnumber'd  roll 

And  our  united  adoration  paid 
To  Him  whose  arm  sustains  the  wond'rous  whole 


But  now,  these  scenes  which  once  could  give  delight, 
Though  still  their  matchless  glories  are  the  same, 

In  vain  present  their  beauties  to  my  sight, 
And  court  the  notice  of  mine  eyes  in  vain. 

No  longer  Richardson  this  pleasure  shares, 
And  all  without  him  seems  a  dreary  void  ; 

The  world  appears  a  wilderness  of  cares, 
My  every  plan  of  happiness  destroy'd  ! 

You  too,  my  Anna,  when  your  sand  is  run, 
Must  quit  the  object  of  your  tend'rest  love, 

Or  else  with  tears  bedew  a  husband's  urn, 
And  all  a  widow'd  mother's  anguish  prove. 


103 

If  such  your  lot,  O  may  that  gracious  God 

Who  makes  the  Widow  his  peculiar  care, 
Support  you  under  his  chastising  rod, 

Until  the  perfect  joys  of  heav'n  you  share, 


104 
THE  WIDOW : 

IMITATED 

From  a  Piece  of  Mr*  Montgomery's  of  Sheffield. 

WHAT  murm'ring  sounds  are  those  I  hear 

Which,  floating  on  the  dying  breeze, 
Bespeak  some  thoughtful  wand'rer  near  ? 

Again !  what  mournful  notes  are  these  ? 
'Tis  the  lone  Widow's  plaintive  moan 

Resounding  through  the  solemn  shade, 
She  comes  to  seek  the  humble  stone 

That  tells  her,  where  her  love  was  laid  : 
On  the  fresh  grave  she  turns  her  eyes, 
Where  all  that  was  her  treasure  lies  : 
Not  for  herself  alone  her  sorows  flow, 
A  Mother's  love  augments  the  Widow's  woe  ! 


105 

The  Infant,  cradled  on  her  breast, 

Unconscious  of  its  Mother's  woe, 
Enjoys  the  sweets  of  tranquil  rest 

Nor  feels  the  winds  that  round  him  blow. 
With  soften'd  eye  the  Mother  views 

That  countenance,  so  mild,  so  fair, 
And  her  fond  fancy  loves  to  muse  ; 

On  the  dear  form  reflected  there, 
But  soon  she  staits  with  anguish  wild 
As  gazing  on  her  sleeping  child 
She  sees  his  Father's  image  shine  confest, 
And  clasps  him  closer  to  her  throbbing  breast. 

The  Babe  awaking,  lifts  his  head 

And  wonders  why  his  Mother  weeps.... 

He  knows  not,  in  that  lowly  bed, 
Beneath  that  turf,  his  Father  sleeps  ! 

Each  sportive  art  he  vainly  tries 
Some  fond  endearment  to  obtain, 


106 

To  catch  the  notice  of  her  eyes, 

And  see  her  smile  on  him  again  : 
She  heeds  him  not,  her  swelling  breast 
By  all  a  Widow's  grief  oppress'd, 
While  the  big  tears  flow  down  her  faded  cheek, 
And  piercing  groans,  her  heartfelt  anguish  speak, 

The  winds  that  whistle  o'er  her  head, 

The  rustling  leaves  that  round  her  fall, 
The  gloom  of  nights  approaching  shade, 

Conspire  the  wand'rer  to  appal : 
Then  Memory,  too  officious,  tells 

Of  pleasures,  now  for  ever  flown, 
Still  on  the  dear  remembrance  dwells, 

Till  Reason  totters  on  her  throne  : 
Ah  !  then,  what  horrors  shake  her  soul ! 
What  clouds  of  darkness  round  her  roll ! 
With  frantic  mien  she  seeks  the  darkest  shades, 
And  wild  Despair,  her  trembling  frame  invadea- 


107 

Her  weeping  Babe  affrighted  clings 

Around  her  neck ;  his  plaintive  cries 
Unloosens  all  the  tender  springs, 

Bids  each  maternal  feeling  rise. 
In  him  she  sooths  her  wounded  mind, 

She  feels  her  grief's  excess  reprov'd, 
Views  the  sweet  pledge  still  left  behind, 

The  image  of  the  saint  she  lov'd. 
Though  of  her  dearest  hopes  bereft, 
Yet,  thankful  for  the  treasure  left, 
She  bends  to  Heav'n  with  gratitude  sincere, 
And  learns  to  trust,  be  patient,  and  revere.... 

For  lo  !  descending  from  the  skies, 

In  robes  of  orient  light  array'd, 
Appears,  to  glad  her  wond'ring  eyes, 

Religion  ;  her  reviving  aid 
Dispels  the  clouds  drawn  by  Despair, 

A  brighter  scene  unfolds  to  v  iew, 


108 

Bids  her  on  God  repose  her  care, 

Nor  seek  her  sorrows  to  renew  : 
She  points  her  to  yon  realms  above 
Where  dwells  the  spirit  of  her  love, 
Instructs  her  how  to  bear  the  chast'ning  rod, 
And  in  Affliction's  furnace,  glorify  her  God. 


109 


ON  THE  ANNIVERSARY  OF  OUR  MAR- 
RIAGE, OCTOBER  31,  1805. 

• 

THREE  fleeting  years  have  past,  since  on  this  day 
To  Richardson  my  willing  hand  I  gave  ; 

Ere  two  were  gone,  I  mournM  his  breathless  clay, 
And  saw  him  laid  in  yonder  silent  grave. 

Alas  !  how  quickly  was  my  sun  o'ercast, 

Soon  night's  dark  shade  obscur'd  his  golden  beams  ; 
How  all  my  smiling  prospacts  prov'd  at  last 
As  transient  as  the  morning's  airy  dreams ! 

Ah  !  why,  too  faithful  Memory  !  dost  thou  tell 
Of  scenes,  which  serve  but  to  increase  my  pain, 

Why  on  his  varied  excellencies  dwell, 

And  make  me  feel  the  parting  pang  again  ? 

K 


110 

Come  meek-ey'd  Resignation,  to  my  aid, 
Suppress  the  rising  sigh,  the  gushing  tear, 

Let  thy  mild  influence  my  soul  pervade, 

Compose  my  griefs,  my  drooping  spirits  cheer : 

Come,  humble  Faith,  and  to  my  longing  eyes 
Unfold  the  joys  which  happy  spirits  prove, 

That  I  may  strive  to  win  the  glorious  prize, 
And  join  with  them  to  sing  a  Saviour's  love. 

Come,  cheering  Hope,  and  cast  within  the  vail 
Thy  anchor  stedfast  and  for  ever  sure, 

The  promise  of  my  Lord  shall  never  fail, 
"  Blessed  are  they  that  to  the  end  endure." 

Come,  holy  Love,   possess  this  heart  of  mine, 
From  all  tormenting  cares  my  mind  release, 

And  fit  me  for  those  realms  of  bliss  divine, 

Where  Love  shall  reign  when  Faith  and  Hope  shall 
cease. 


Ill 


ON  BEING  SLIGHTED 
BY  SOME  WHO  HAD  PROFESSED  LASTING  FRIENDSHIP. 

FRIENDSHIP  !  thou  oft  abused  name, 
How  seldom  is  thy  sacred  flame 

By  its  professors  known  ; 
Awhile  they  seem  to  be  sincere, 
But  if  Adversity  appear, 

How  soon  their  love  is  gone  ! 

When  prosp'rous  fortune  smil'd  around, 
A  friend  in  ev'ry  face  I  found, 

Who  seem'd  devoid  of  art ; 
By  fair  appearances  deceiv'd, 
Their  friendship  I  sincere  believ'd, 

And  plac'd  them  in  my  heart. 


112 

But  when  Adversity  drew  near 
With  aspect  rugged  and  severe, 

And  seiz'd  me  as  her  prey  ; 
When  Sorrow  pierc'd  my  widow'd  breast, 
And  adverse  storms  my  soul  oppress'd, 

With  anguish  and  dismay ; 

When  sinking  underneath  the  blow, 
Which  laid  my  earthly  comforts  low, 

I  sought  relief  to  find 
From  those,  who  still  to  me  were  dear ; 
Too  soon  1  found  what  seem'd  sincere, 

Was  wav'ring  as  the  wind. 

?Tis  in  Affliction's  dreary  hour, 

That  Friendship's  lenient  hand  should  pour 

The  salutary  balm, 
Which  in  affection  may  be  found 
Of  pow'r  to  heal  the  deepest  wound, 

To  make  the  tempest  calm. 


113 


But  ah !  how  little  have  ye  known 
Of  Friendship,  who  could  thus  disown 

The  victim  of  distress  ; 
Could  leave  the  mind  by  anguish  torn, 
In  lonely  misery  to  mourn 

Past  scenes  of  happiness. 

Their  alter' d  manners  I  essay, 
With  cool  indifference  to  repay, 

But  vain  the  attempt  is  found, 
The  dear  delusion  cherish'd  long, 
Has  every  tender  feeling  wrung, 

And  open'd  every  wound. 

Yet  am  I  not  of  all  bereft, 

A  little  remnant  yet  is  left, 

Who  still  unchang'd  remain  ; 

Whose  heartsVith  kind  compassion  glow, 

Who  sympathize  in  ever}'  woe, 

And  soften  every  pain. 
K2 


114 

O  ye  whose  fost'ring  bosoms  melt, 
At  sorrows  by  another  felt, 

Ye  friends  so  firm  and  true ; 
So  long  as  Memory  holds  her  seat, 
My  heart  shall  never  cease  to  beat 

With  grateful  love  for  you. 

But  chief,  to  Him  who  bade  your  souls, 
Responsive  beat  at  Pity's  calls, 

My  highest  praise  be  given  ; 
And  may  the  friendship  now  so  sweet, 
Be,  when  around  his  throne  we  meet, 

Renew'd  again  in  Heaven ! 


115 

ODE 

ON  VISITING  THE  RETREAT, 

NEAR  YORK; 

A  House  erected  by  the  Society  of  Friends,  for  the  reception  of 
Insane  Persons. 

HAIL,  to  these  tranquil  shades,  this  calm  retreat, 

Scenes  sacred  to  the  children  of  Despair  ! 
Here  mild  Benevolence  has  fix'd  her  seat, 
And  here,  the  social  Virtues  oft  repair. 

Compassion  tries  each  soothing  art, 
And  Sympathy,  with  pitying  eye, 

Pours  balm  into  the  bleeding  heart, 
And  breathes  the  sorrowing  sigh  ; 

Here  modest  Meekness  dwells,  and  here 
Humanity  dispels  each  fear  ; 
Attentive,  they  by  every  method  strive, 
The  glimmering  spark  of  reason  to  revive. 


116 


In  safety  here  the  maniac  widely  roves, 

No  curious  eyes  his  wand'ring  steps  descry, 
As  swift  he  paces  through  these  shady  groves, 

Or  on  the  lasdscape  casts  his  vacant  eye. 
Here  Melancholy,  pensive  child, 

Sits  list'ning  to  the  wood-lark's  strains, 
Or  in  sad  accents,  sweetly  wild, 
Of  all  her  fancied  woe  complains. 
That  downcast  look,  that  head  reclin'd, 
Those  tresses  waving  with  the  wind, 
The  ruin  of  her  lovely  form, 
Her  dress  neglected  and  forlorn, 
All  speak  a  mind  by  anguish  torn.... 
While  oft  beneath  the  spreading  shade, 
Of  yonder  weeping  willow  laid, 
She  weaves  fresh  garlands  for  her  lover's  head, 
Then  starts,  and  breathless  listens  for  his  well-known  tread. 


117 

....Ye  mourning  relatives,  suppress  your  fears, 
For  they  whose  fate,  incessant  you  deplore, 
Shall  soon  return  to  wipe  away  your  tears, 

And  happiness  again  to  you  restore.... 
For  lo,  to  calm  the  tumult  of  the  breast, 
Which  madness  had  too  long  possess'd  ; 
To  chase  away  the  fiend,  Despair, 
To  clear  the  brow  of  gloomy  Care  ; 
Bid  pensive  Melancholy  cease  to  mourn, 
Calm  Reason  re-assume  her  seat ; 
Each  intellectual  power  return, 
Heaven  bade  this  structure  rise,  and  calPd  it  the  Retreat. 


v, 


118 


THANKSGIVING 


FOR  THE  RECOVERY  OF  MY  SICK  INFANT. 


"  CALL  UPON  ME  IS  THE  TIME  OF  TROUBLE,  SO  WILL  I  HEAR 
THEE,  AND  THOU  SHALT   PRAISE  ME."   PSALM  L.  15. 


BOW'D  down  beneath  a  load  of  grief, 

Of  sorrow  and  despair  j 
No  friend  on  earth  to  give  relief, 

To  God  I  made  my  pray'r  : 
The  sorrows  of  my  heart  I  spread, 

Before  his  Mercy  Seat ; 
And  all  my  secret  woes  displayed, 

And  cast  them  at  his  feet. 


119 

I  urg'd  the  promise  of  my  Lord,. 

"  Ask  and  ye  shall  receive," 
And  mercy  for  my  child  implor'd, 

Which  he  vouchsafe  to  give ; 
He  turn'd  my  sorrow  into  joy, 

My  mourning  into  praise, 
Restor'd  again  my  lovely  boy, 

And  lengthened  out  his  days. 

The  waves  of  sorrow  o'er  my  head 

In  quick  succession  flow'd, 
And  every  ray  of  hope  seem?d  fled, 

E'en  as  the  morning  cloud  ; 
But  He  who  reigns  above  the  skies, 

Whom  heavenly  hosts  adore, 
Vouchsaf'd  to  hear  a  Parent's  cries, 

And  bade  me  weep  no  more. 


120 

From  every  danger  He  defends, 

To  Him  my  griefs  are  known, 
He  gives  me  kind  and  tender  friends, 

Who  make  these  griefs  their  own  : 
They  try  each  sympathizing  art, 

To  heal  my  wounded  breast, 
And  deeply  in  a  grateful  heart 

Their  kindness  is  imprest, 

"What  shall  I  render  to  the  Lord 

For  all  that  he  hath  done, 
His  truth  and  mercy  I'll  record, 

And  make  his  goodness  known. 
Protected  by  Almighty  love, 

What  more  can  I  desire.... 
But  that  my  future  life  may  prove 

Such  as  his  laws  require  ? 


121 


SONNET  TO  MR.  M R. 

O  WOULD  the  muse  my  feeble  lays  inspire, 

And  her  celestial  aid  to  me  impart ; 
Then  might  I  boldly  strike  the  sacred  lyre, 

And  speak  the  grateful  feelings  of  ray  heart. 

By  you  restored,  my  darling  child  I  view, 

For  God  vouchsafed  to  bless  your  gen'rous  aid, 

And  mantling  o'er  his  cheeks,  Health's  roseate  hue 
Repairs  the  ravages  disease  had  made. 

O  may  that  God,  who  first  inspir'd  your  breast 
With  soft  compassion,  be  your  constant  guard  ; 

Long  may  you  live  to  succour  the  distress'd, 
A  self-approving  conscience  your  reward  : 

Till  crown'd  with  years  and  honours,  you  remove 

From  earth  to  heaven,  to  praise  Redeeming  Love. 

L 


122 


ON  MEETING  ACCIDENTALLY  WITH 
SOME  DRAWINGS, 

COLOURED  BY  MY  DEAR  BROTHER. 

THE  hand  which  drew  this  sportive  scene, 
And  bade  these  vivid  colours  bloom, 

Which  I,  with  mournful  pleasure  see, 
Lies  mould'ring  in  the  silent  tomb  ! 

But  well  this  small  remembrance  brings, 
His  dear  lov'd  image  to  my  mind ; 

Again,  that  placid  form  I  view, 

Which  spoke  a  heart,  compos' d  and  kind : 

And  oft,  while  musing  on  his  worth, 

Soft  stealing  on  my  list'ning  ear, 
In  accents,  sweet  as  Angels  breathe, 

His  well  known  voice  I  seem  to  hear* 


123 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  ADMIRAL  NELSON. 

NELSON,  who  oft  has  Britain's  foes  defy'd, 
And  o'er  the  seas  maintain'd  her  sov'reign  pow'r  ; 

Nelson,  the  scourge  of  France.. ..Britannia's  pride, 
Now  yields  to  Death,  near  yonder  hostile  shore. 

Long  had  he  been  our  Country's  proudest  boast, 
And  bore  the  marks  of  many  a  well-fought  day  j 

Long  had  he  prov'd  a  bulwark  to  our  coast, 
No  danger  could  his  fearless  soul  dismay. 

Oft  had  the  laurel  wreath  adorn'd  his  brows, 
But  all  his  toils  and  conquests  now  are  o'er; 

See  from  his  breast  the  crimson  current  flows, 
He  sinks !  he  falls !  great  Nelson  is  no  more ! 


124 


Scar'd  by  the  sight,  lo  !  Victory  veils  her  head, 
And  crown' d  with  cypress  gains  Britania's  shores  ; 

Britannia  mourns,  her  darling  Hero  dead, 

And  bath'd  in  tears  her  Nelson's  loss  deplores. 

Illustrious  Chief!  still  shall  thy  honour'd  name 
To  British  hearts,  be  ever  held  most  dear  ; 

Remotest  ages  shall  thy  praise  proclaim, 
And  Neleon's  memory  gratefully  revere. 

By  thy  example  fir'd,  new  chiefs  shall  rise, 
And  taught  by  thee  for  aid  divine  implore  ; 

When  shouts  of  victory  rend  the  lofty  skies, 
By  thee  instructed,  Heaven's  great  King  adore. 

Oft  shall  the  seaman,  when  his  toils  are  o'er, 
Tell  of  the  feats  of  war  with  honest  pride  ; 

Relate  the  victory  won  on  Nile's  fam'd  shore, 

And  boast,  'twas  there  he  fought  by  Nelson's  side. 


125 


For  thee  the  muse  shall  raise  the  lofty  strain, 

And  twine  for  thee  the  fairest  flow'rs  that  bloom ; 

E'en  I,  the  meanest  of  the  tuneful  train, 
Would  cast  a  simple  flow'ret  on  thy  tomb. 


THE  END. 


CONTENTS 


ELEGY  on  the  Death  of  a  tender  Mother 23* 

The  Orphan's  Prayer 26 

Epitaph     . 28 

Prayer  for  Safety  and  Protection -29 

Slegy  on  the  Death  of  an  only  Brother 31 

On  Recovery  from  Sudden  Illness 34 

Address  to  Religion 36 

On  the  Consolation  to  be  derived  from  Religion    ....  38 

The  Inquiry 41 

Ode  addressed  to  the  Grey  Coat  School 45 

Paraphrase  of  Matt.  xi.  28 49 

Written  under  great  Doubt  and  Anxiety  of  Mind,  1801     .  52 

Praise  for  the  Blessings  of  the  Gospel 54 

A  Valentine,  a  ddressed  by  the  Author  to  A.  B 56 

A  Valentine  to  R.  R.  written  extempore       58 

To  an  Acquaintance  on  her  Marriage accompanied  by 

a  small  Present    .    .    , 60 

Elegy  on  the  Death  of  Mrs.  T.  Withers,  April,  1802.  .  .  62 
Elegy  on  the  Death  of  the  late  Dr.  Robert  Cappe  .  .  .  .66 
Invitation  to  the  Sacrament 69 


CONTENTS. 


On  my  Birth-day,  March  5, 1803 73 

Addressed  during  my  own  severe  Illness,  to  the  kindest  of 

Husbands 75 

When  threatened  with  an  Invasion  in  the  Summer  of  1803.    77 
Paraphrase  written  in  my  dear  Husband's  last  Illness  ...  79 

After  the  Death  of  my  dear  Husband,  1804 82 

To  my  Infant  asleep 86 

To  my  dearest  Friend  M.  S ,  on  her  Birth-day     .    .     .  S9 

He  Sleeps,  1805 :     .  92 

Sonnet  addressed  to  Mr.  M r,  June,  1805.    .   .     .     .     .96 

To  Mrs  P ,  North-street 101 

The  Widow 104 

On  the  Anniversary  of  our  Marriage,  Oct.  31, 1805.      .     .  109  , 
On  being  slighted  by  some  who  had  professed  lasting 

Friendship Ill 

Ode  on  visiting  the  Retreat,  near  York 115 

Thanksgiving  for  the  Recovery  of  my  Sick  Infant    .    .     .118 

Sonnet  to  Mr.  M r 121 

On  meeting  accidentally  with  some  Drawings  coloured  by 

my  dear  Brother 122 

On  the  Death  of  Admiral  Nelson       123 


r 


S       HUH    -  •  ■ 


"    IS  '".-' 


: 


